


of honey

by stylinsoncity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Cat/Human Hybrids, Crying During Sex, Dom Louis, Hybrid Harry, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Smut, Spanking, Strangers to Lovers, Sub Harry, Subspace, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsoncity/pseuds/stylinsoncity
Summary: Harry wants what most hybrids don’t have. Love, for instance. Companionship. Understanding. And sex so good it hurts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [artwork below by amy tyler](http://fineartamerica.com/featured/yellow-poppy-photography-yellow-poppies-yellow-flowers-olive-green-yellow-floral-wall-art-amy-tyler.html)

“you look like you smell of honey and no pain. let me have a taste of that.” - rupi kaur

<< 

>>  **harry**

Desperation has a way of igniting bad idea after bad idea until eventually, everything is on fire and nothing makes sense and Harry is beyond desperate. To be clear, he’s not unhappy. People look at recklessness and assume a person is miserable or that they're suffering from some deep-seeded inner turmoil. And that's not the case for him.

He’s spent the last five years living a happy life thanks to a man named Alistair, whose generosity allowed Harry to attend university, whose shelter kept him safe after he left home. Harry has avoided the hardships that most of his kind face because of him. That’s not something he would ever be ungrateful for.

It’s just—

The desperation.

Not for comfort or stability, but something much simpler.

Harry is twenty-two, a recent university grad, and more eager than ever to go out into the wayward world and find a bright, endless kind of love, and consequently, a life that feels human.

There's just the problem of his tail and his strange ears and all those other things that make him  _not_  human. Or half-human.

Or hybrid, as the world and its textbooks like to call it.

He’s got idyllic aspirations for his kind. He knows that. But they’re his aspirations, his dreams, and he'll chase them all he wants.

The other problem is that most hybrids don’t make it to their 30th birthday on their own, let alone fall in love. Humans are compelled to be violent and finding love happens so scarcely it’s given way to a misconception that hybrids can’t fall in love at all. Harry wants to prove the world wrong.

In spite of his mum's protests, he moves out of Alistair’s massive estate the week after his graduation and into a flat that the old man insists on paying for with 24-hour security and a slew of amenities Harry has no use for. It's not safe or acceptable in most places for Harry's kind to live on their own, and most don't want to. But again, there's the recklessness.

So Harry gets a new flat and later, a new job at a bakery.

Now all he needs is to find a human.

 _The_  human.

Alistair introduces him to a number of his younger, more virile colleagues, men who Harry might actually want to have sex with. Alistair himself is seventy-four, which means that all the Viagra in the world won’t account for his hip replacement or various knee surgeries or Harry’s general lack of attraction to him. Not that they’ve ever  _tried_  to have sex. It was never even on the table, their relationship better suited for platonic affection, including cuddles and a good game of chess when he and the old man weren’t napping.

And given that he’s never had sex with Alistair and Alistair is all he’s known since he left home, Harry’s never had sex at all. Which again, he desperately needs to change.

All of Alistair’s colleagues turn out to be revolting with drooling mouths and wandering eyes. They don’t seem interested in a relationship at all. They’re more eager to get Harry home for the night. One man proposes as much outright, with a hand sliding towards Harry’s arse. It takes a great deal of resistance for Harry to not scratch him.

Weeks pass without success. Harry enjoys his job at the bakery and the kind woman he works with always sends him home with cupcakes or biscuits. Sometimes he goes to the library, curls up in the warm corner near the musty periodicals, and reads books that many hybrids never learned to. He has lunch on the park bench near the bakery with his human coworker. And when it’s all over he returns to his lonely flat and feeds his goldfish that most hybrids would have eaten by now.

“I would never do that to you, Chowder,” Harry promises for the fiftieth time since bringing his pet home. He shakes food into the glass bowl on his bedside table. He’s always a little tempted to be honest. But if he eats Chowder, he’ll truly be all alone. 

He shuffles into bed with his phone, eager to read himself to sleep, but finds himself bypassing iBooks to start a new Google search instead:

_“How does a hybrid find a human?”_

The very first link is to a site called Seeking Kitten, which sounds to Harry like a hybrid/human porn site but he clicks it anyway. At best, he’ll manage a sad wank and tire himself out enough to sleep.

It’s a dating site. That’s apparent from the home page, which prompts him to “Sign Up Now.” There’s a charming logo featuring a silhouetted human and a hybrid with their hands interlocked and the hybrid’s tail curling into a heart. Harry smiles, scrolling down to the testimonials about all the successful arrangements. He finds himself grinning, curling his tail around himself as he reads.

The last story is what gets him: about a human and a hybrid who actually married and had children. It’s so uncommon for hybrids to marry that in some places it still isn’t even legal. And to have kids too? Harry has never wanted anything more.

He scrolls back up, thumb hovering over the sign-up icon. He tosses his phone to the bed and scrambles for his laptop hidden beneath his bed. He turns on his bedside lamp and settles the laptop in front of him. He goes to the page and clicks “Sign Up Now.”

It’s an awful idea. He knows as he’s uploading a picture that it’s probably his worst yet. But he’s too far along to stop now. And too desperate.

>> 

He spots Zayn by a booth in the back, his ears hidden beneath a baseball cap, and hurries over to him. He feels the gaze of several men drifting his way, but he’s so used to it by now, it’s like a faint itch.

“Hi,” he says, sliding into the booth.

“Finally.” Zayn lowers his beer. “I was just about to leave.”

“I got caught up at the library,” Harry says, inspecting him. He begins to smile. “You look good. Happy.”

“You’re imagining things,” Zayn says. He smiles with his lips pressed to the rim of his glass. “I’m pretty happy, though.”

Harry cradles his chin in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m happy for you.”

A bartender arrives with a beer and sets it on the table, tossing a wink Harry’s way before leaving. Harry stares with narrowed eyes at the drink.

“Don’t worry. I ordered it for you,” Zayn says.

“Oh.” Harry lifts the glass and takes a sip. “Being on my own makes me too suspicious.”

“You should always be suspicious,” Zayn says with an air of mystery. He’s always getting on like he’s part of a government conspiracy. “And you should cover your ears.”

“And what should I do about my  _tail_? Not much I can do to hide that, is there?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“Is the hat working for you?” Harry wonders.

“Niall bought this for me,” Zayn grumbles, which means it’s not helpful at all, just sentimental.

Harry eyes the front of the hat emblazoned with the Derby County logo. “I figured.”

“You know how he is,” Zayn says. “Irrationally overprotective.”

“But good to you,” Harry says, smiling. “You’re lucky.”

Zayn’s smile grows again. He slides the baseball cap off his head, allowing his black feline ears to spring free. “And how are things going for you? With dating?”

“They’re not, really.” Harry sits back in his seat with a sigh. “I haven’t met anyone so far, although I’m not giving up.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Zayn says. After a pause, he adds, “You know, Niall has this friend—”

“No. Please, don’t,” Harry says, his palms raised like Zayn has tossed him something corrosive. “No more set-ups. I’m doing this my way from now on.”

Zayn’s eyes narrow. “And what’s your way?”

Harry lifts his beer, wearing a broad smile. “I’ll tell you if it works.”

<< 

>>  **louis**

Louis could get a date if he wanted, just not with the right species.

He’s always been a cat person. His family had dogs growing up but he took care of the strays around his neighbourhood. He thought eventually he’d even get a cat when he had his own place but never found the time.

The first human cat, or hybrid, he ever laid eyes on was a stray as well, who slept in Hyde Park, kept his tail hidden in the leg of his baggy sweats and his ears tucked beneath a tattered hat. Louis would bring him money (because he has plenty) and food. He tried to offer him shelter even, but the hybrid was too skittish in the end. And one day Louis returned to the park to find him gone. He never even learned his name.

The second hybrid turned out to be in a new and happy relationship with one of Louis’ friends. He met Zayn at a party and they had a good chat until the friend in question showed up. He was the most beautiful hybrid Louis had seen in person, but entirely off-limits.

Louis has encountered other hybrids in passing. They're a scarcity, especially in the city, but he's seen them working behind the counters at coffee shops and perched on the laps of drunken men in clubs.

He's fascinated by them. He's concerned for their welfare and civil rights. He finds them more interesting and alluring than human men. The problem is that he’s just never been lucky enough to take one out on a date.

Which is why, on Thursday night, Niall mentions Seeking Kitten over beers and chips.

“No,” Louis replies right away. “I’m not that desperate.”

“You’re not?” Niall asks incredulously, both eyebrows shooting upward.

Louis resents that reaction. He’s  _not_  desperate.

“There’s nothing wrong with being desperate,” Niall says, like he’s read Louis’ mind. “A lot of us are. Especially when we feel like time is running out. You’re almost thirty so I guess it kind of is.”

“Fuck off,” Louis grumbles.

“Just take a look at it. I hear it really works. And if it can keep you from moping about, I’m all for it,” Niall says, taking a big sip of his beer. His phone buzzes and he looks down at the picture waiting there. It’s Zayn. Louis knows without looking.

“I have to get home,” Niall says, throwing back the last of his beer. “You know, I’m not supposed to say this but Zayn’s got this friend—”

Louis groans. “Niall, I’m fine,” he says. He just wants to stop talking about it at this point. About all of it. Niall watches him for a minute too long. “I’m  _fine_.”

Niall sighs and pats him on the shoulder. “Just look at the site, yeah?”

“Not a chance.” Louis watches him go, feeling a little jealous and…maybe a little desperate. He collects his phone, pushes it into his pocket and leaves for home.

He doesn’t know how he goes from looking at the site to uploading his profile pic to then scrolling through the list of hybrids looking for humans in London. It all happens too quickly. The testimonials are what get him, especially that last one.

It’s late—just after midnight—when he finds him.

Before he’s even looked at the bio, the profile pic brings his fingers to a halt on the mousepad. He's standing at the top of some tall building, hand poised around a camera. It looks as though he’s beginning to lift it to his face. He’s wearing a smile, causing a dimple to dent his left cheek. Long brown curly hair, bright eyes.

Louis clicks on his profile and reads his bio.

**Hi I’m Harry! Kind of a baker. Mostly just a recent grad trying to figure life out. I'm looking for something new and long-lasting. If cuddling were a sport, I’d win all the time. I’d love to talk if you’re up for it.**

**But first, a riddle: What am I?**

Louis smiles, reading it again, and then a third time, turning the name over in his head. Harry. He’s smart, it seems. It’s possible that he even studied at a university. He has a job, which is actually uncommon for most hybrids. Usually because shitty people won’t hire them. But Harry…he seems to be getting on just fine. Louis would love to know how. He’d love to know a lot more about him.

But first, the riddle.

He’s sure that if he searched it he could find the answer easily but that feels like cheating. He lies in bed for several minutes, staring at the ceiling.

What am I?

Obviously, the answer isn’t hybrid or baker because that’s too easy. It has to be word play then.

What am I? It’s literally just a question. It’s just a really simple question. Without an answer, it seems. Louis starts a message with Harry, hesitates, and starts typing.

**_A question? I think that’s the answer to your riddle._ **

If he’s wrong, he’ll take it as a sign to delete his account and perhaps stop pursuing hybrids altogether, especially after losing out on this one. He sees that Harry was online only ten minutes ago but it’s possible that he’s just fallen asleep. Louis shuffles down into his bed with the laptop beside him, staring at the screen. Maybe he’ll wake up to a message. Or maybe if he’s wrong, Harry will spare him the embarrassment and never reply.

The little kitten icon beside Harry’s name turns red, signaling that he’s online. Louis sits upright. A number “1” appears beside an envelope icon, alerting him to a new message.

 **Ding ding ding!**  Harry’s message reads.  **Hope it wasn’t too difficult.**

Louis smiles. This is juvenile. He feels like a kid passing notes to a cute classmate.

**_Am I the first to get it right so far?_ **

**No but I suspect that the other guy searched it on Google.**

**_How do you know I didn’t search it on Google?_ **

**I don’t think you’d be asking me if you did. :)**

**_Good point. I promise I figured it all out on my own._ **

**I believe you.**

**Thanks for messaging me. I would give you another riddle but that was my best for now.**

Louis hesitates for a moment before he answers with his mobile number.  ** _Whenever you have one, I’ll see if I can figure it out._**

He fears that he’s come on too strong too soon, although being on a dating site, it seems like a contradiction. And then his phone buzzes on his nightstand and there’s a strange number there.

**still working on it. but now you have my number too. x**

>> 

Louis wakes the next morning to find that he’s matched up with a few other hybrids on the site, has received messages from five, and even from a human looking for a threesome with her own hybrid. Louis bypasses all of them.

There’s one final notification—this one from Harry. “You can now view Harry’s private photos!” it says. And so, eagerly, Louis clicks on over to Harry’s profile and clicks into his photos.

The very first one nearly knocks him off his chair. In an alternate universe, the force of it might propel Louis backward, which would be comical but fitting. In this universe, Louis is left to just stare and take him in.

Harry’s wearing a tiny pair of yellow swim shorts, lying stomach down on a sandy beach. He’s shooting a peace sign at the camera and grinning. His hair is loose and long beneath a round-brimmed sunhat. A pair of sunglasses covers his eyes. But Louis can’t stop looking at all his bare skin or the small swell of his bum or the curve of his tail from the back of his shorts. He’s gorgeous. Louis knew that already but not to this extent. He looks at his phone and sees there’s a message waiting for him.

**Until I am measured I am not known. Yet how you miss me when I have flown. What am I?**

**it’s an easy one. :D**

Louis doesn’t have to think hard about it at all. And thankfully, it gives him an in. He types quickly.

**_Speaking of TIME, do you have any next week? Maybe for lunch?_ **

Harry answers with the laughing emoji.

**Smooth.**

Louis smiles, drumming his fingers on the sides of his phone while he waits. Harry sends another message.

**I’d love to meet. I can be free whenever you are.**

**_Then how’s Monday?_ **

**Sounds perfect.**

>> 

He’s seated on a lone bench, eying the lines of cars passing by. The end of his light brown rests in his lap. He runs his fingers nervously over the tip. Louis pauses across the street with a persistent voice in his head urging him back home. The hybrid waiting on the bench is too beautiful. Louis is too inexperienced. And this is bound to end in embarrassment.

And then the hybrid— _Harry_ —turns his head and sets his steady eyes right on Louis. There’s something open about his posture. Even if he must know it’s unsafe for his kind to drop their guard. There’s something about him that draws Louis across the street. Louis approaches him wearing a smile. Cats are skittish by nature. The last thing he needs is to scare him off or give him even a glimmer of a bad impression.

“Hi,” Louis says, lifting his hand, palm open.

Harry’s ears twitch, and then his lips, as they curve into a smile. “Hi,” he replies, voice warm and deep. His eyes remind Louis of those first bursts of green after a long winter.

“Sorry I’m late,” Louis says. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Not too long,” Harry says, uncrossing his legs, running his palms down his thighs. He must be nervous. Makes two of them.

“Should we go in?” Louis asks, and Harry nods.

He can’t do anything to help the awkwardness. Maybe if he could stop staring, but he can’t. Harry’s hair is shinier and curlier in person. His lips are a deeper pink and fuller than Louis remembers from his picture. Harry’s eyes drift away self-consciously as he stands. His long tail curls around his left leg. Louis forces his gaze away, opening the door to the restaurant.

“After you,” he says. And Harry smiles and slides past him. He smells of something flowery and sweet. Louis follows him to the hostess’ desk, where there’s a gentleman waiting.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” he says happily, bowing his head. He looks at Harry, who’s looking at him. “Happy to see you again. Thank you for the picture last time. My wife loved it.”

“Of course,” Louis says with a smile, eyes flickering self-consciously to Harry. He hasn’t had a chance to explain what exactly he does. But he wonders if Harry has ever seen him on TV. “Table for two?”

They’re led to a table by the window and there are a few eyes on them along the way.  Harry doesn’t seem to notice or care. He takes a seat and recrosses his legs. He reaches for his glass of water. After a sip, he smiles. “So are you famous or do you just come here often?”

Louis laughs. “Not exactly,” he says. “I write books, in addition to teaching lit classes every now and then. I’ve done a few interviews. And there’s a movie out right now based on a novel I wrote a few years ago. But that’s it.”

“But that’s it?” Harry’s eyes are wide. “Which movie?”

“The one about time travel?” Louis hints. “Not sure if you’ve seen the trailer, but—”

“Wait!” Harry gasps. “You’re Louis  _Tomlinson_. Oh my God, I’ve read that book. Me and my…my friend…we read it together. I  _love_  that book,” he rambles. “Except. What you did to Francine in the second novel….” He shakes his head solemnly. “So cruel. Oh, and George is one of my favorite characters of all time.” He slaps his hands to the table. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m on a date with Louis Tomlinson. My mum will never believe me….” He stops talking abruptly and takes a breath. “Sorry, I’m finished.”

“No, it’s okay,” Louis says. He’s definitely blushing. He laughs, “I’m glad you liked them, really.”

“I  _loved_  them. I’ve been wanting to see the film with my friend but he’s been busy,” Harry says.

“Well, I’d take you some time but it’s a bit weird taking someone for a date to see my own film.”

“Right.” Harry laughs, both of his flushed cheeks dimpling. He’s honestly adorable. “Maybe when it comes out on DVD, we can watch it then.”

Also, he’s making allusions to seeing Louis again and even if they haven’t made it to their entrée yet, Louis is all for that. He likes him more than he expected to already.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he says. “I feel like it doesn’t usually happen this quickly. And you didn’t know much about me beforehand.”

“Well, I can learn now,” Harry reassures him. They smile at each other for a long moment and Louis knows he must look like a complete sop. But he’s starting to feel like one to be honest.

“Would you like tea?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” Harry says.

The waiter comes by, eyes glued to Harry. You’d think his mum would have taught him about staring. Louis clears his throat and the man’s gaze snaps to him.

“Two teas, please?” Louis says.

The waiter nods. “Anything else?” he asks. He casts a glance in Harry’s direction. He leans in a little closer to Louis and says quietly, “Unfortunately, we don’t serve…cat food here.”

Louis’ mouth drops open. Harry stares adamantly at his glass of water.

“Are you joking?” he asks the waiter, both brows lifted. “Tell me you’re joking.” Not that it would help. Regardless of the man’s reasoning, Louis wants to knock him on his arse.

The waiter fumbles for a response. “I only meant for your hybrid, we don’t usually accommodate—”

“You only meant to be a dick,” Louis cuts him off. “And congrats. You succeeded.”

Harry reaches for his forearm. “Louis, it’s okay…”

“No, it’s not. We’re leaving,” Louis says, standing. Harry does the same and Louis reaches for him, setting a hand on his lower back. By now the host has scurried over to them, asking “Mr. Tomlinson, what’s wrong?”

“We won’t be coming back here,” Louis says. “Maybe you should spend more time training your staff to treat  _everyone_  with respect, yeah?” 

The host issues more apologies but by then, Louis has led Harry out the restaurant and to the next corner. Harry stands there, lip bitten, and toes turned in toward each other. He has his tail in his hands again, twisting the fur between his nervous fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Louis asks incredulously. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t think he meant to be rude. Some of us do enjoy cat food. I’ve never had a taste for it though…” Harry says. “It just seems like a nice place. I’m sorry you won’t be going back there.”

He’s all curled into himself, making himself much smaller than he is. His furry ears are turned down. And he won’t make eye contact with Louis. Which sucks most of all, since he has the prettiest eyes Louis thinks he’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Louis says and he steps close, taking Harry’s shoulders into his hands. “You don’t owe me or anyone else an apology for being who you are. That guy was a dick.”

Harry lifts his gaze and meets Louis’ eyes.

Unconsciously, Louis strokes his shoulder with his thumb. “There’s another place we can go if you’re still up for it. Feeling a burger?”

Harry’s smile is small but the point is that it’s there. “I could honestly just go for a glass of milk.”

“Alright,” Louis says. “I know a place.”

<< 

>>  **harry**

He takes a whiff of Louis when he isn’t looking, and thinks he smells the way honey tastes. Sweet and warm. He spends a lot of time just admiring him, watching the way his mouth moves and shapes his words, cataloging each expression and mannerism. He's never had a crush on anyone. It's nice to finally know how it feels.

When Louis swipes his tongue over his upper lip and the tip just grazes his mustache, Harry forgets he's not supposed to stare so intensely at anyone. It makes most humans nervous or when he looks at Harry intently with his sharp blue eyes, languid butterflies flutter in his stomach. He finds himself leaning closer whenever Louis is speaking and staring even when he isn’t.

They go to this diner Louis says he frequents when he’s writing. Harry has a glass of warm milk with a straw and a salmon sandwich. Louis has a burger and a Coke. He asks Harry questions. So many questions.

Favorite color.

“Blue, I think,” Harry says.

Favorite book.

“Might be one of yours,” Harry says, smiling. He’s shameless. “Or something by Oscar Wilde.”

Favorite flower.

“Yellow poppies,” Harry says. “Yellow flowers, in general— But the poppy is so delicate. It means peace, you know. And serenity.”

And with every answer, Louis’ smile grows and another question populates in his head. He seems to be cataloging it all, storing it away for later. He asks Harry about where he went to school. Cambridge, Harry tells him, and then Louis asks him how he ended up there.

“I’m just curious,” Louis says. “I know it’s hard for you—for hybrids—to attend universities.”

“I’ve had a lot of help. My friend that I mentioned earlier, the one I've read your books with— he was my owner actually,” Harry says, staring into his glass of milk. “He’s an elderly, wealthy man and he has a lot of connections. It wasn’t difficult for him to get me into the school of my choice.”

“Your owner,” Louis repeats.

Harry gauges his reaction. He doesn't seem put off, although there's no reason he should be. “My mum, my sister and I used to live with a woman in Holmes Chapel. My mother worked for her as a nanny and a housekeeper. My sister married when she was eighteen and left. And the same would be expected of me if I could find someone. But I decided I wanted to go to uni and study literature. So when I finished sixth form, Eliza, our owner, connected me with a friend in London and I’ve lived with him ever since. Until recently.”

“Were you…” Louis pauses, trying to find the right words. “How’s that different to what you’re doing now? Looking for a human to live with?”

“Owners take care of us but it’s purely platonic,” Harry says. “It’s more like guardianship or fostering. Sometimes romantic feelings develop but it’s not typical.” He shrugs. “And that's what I’m looking for.”

Louis’ lips twitch. “Me too,” he says. “Until recently, you said, yeah? So you moved out on your own?”

“When I graduated, yeah. My mum was opposed, but she usually is.” A tendril of his hair falls across his forehead and he tucks it back behind his ear. He meets Louis’ gaze. His smile is soft, his gaze attentive. “I just want something that feels normal. And human. I’m half of one after all.”

“And better than most I’ve met.”

Harry props his elbow up on the table and rests his chin in his palm. “You hardly know me.”

“I’d like to,” Louis says.

And then they have another moment, where they’re just looking at each other. Harry likes this one too much too soon.

When they’re finished, Louis offers to walk him home but Alistair was adamant about how unsafe it’d be to allow that. Even though Harry feels like he could trust Louis already, he’ll heed Alistair’s warnings this time. They’re paused now at Louis’ gleaming black Audi.

“Are you sure I can’t walk you to your door? I feel bad for leaving you here,” Louis says.

“Please don’t. Really, it’s just up the street and around the corner,” Harry says. He entwines his fingers behind his back, rocking on his heels.

Louis pushes his hands into his pockets. “I think this goes without saying,” he says. “But I’d really like to see you again soon.”

Harry grins. “Me too. Very soon…”

“Tomorrow?” Louis asks.

“Yes,” Harry says. “I can meet you tomorrow.”

“Is there a place you feel comfortable going?

Harry takes a breath. “Maybe yours?”

“Are you sure?” Louis questions warily. Harry should be wary too, except he isn’t at all. Alistair would have a fit. But he’s not Harry’s owner anymore.

“Send me the address?” Harry asks. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Great.” Louis smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Harry leans in to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. He takes a big, silent whiff of him while he’s at it. Louis smells of a spicy-sweet cologne and detergent and something that’s entirely just him, just human. When he draws back, Louis’ eyes are on his mouth. “Have a good night, Louis,” Harry says.

Louis directs a shy smile at the ground, his cheeks tinged pink, and Harry feels a little chuffed.

“Good night, Harry.”

>> 

Harry spends all night after their date thinking about Louis. He falls asleep thinking about him. He wakes up, thinking about him. He gets an order wrong at the bakery because he’s distracted…thinking about Louis. And by the time his boss lets him off, he’s jittery, feels like he’s been waiting years just to actually  _see_  Louis.

It's all happened so fast. The way he feels is overwhelming already. If this all goes well, Harry could be out of his flat in a week. Ideally, after tonight or another few dates, Louis would extend an invitation for Harry to come stay with him. Harry would say yes. And so it goes.

He arrives at Louis’ flat a half hour too early and paces the pavement to kill time. He’s dressed in his yellow jumper and black skinnies, which was meant to keep him comfortable but it's got him sweating bullets.

“Harry?”

He turns, and there’s Louis holding a grocery bag. He smiles. “A little early?”

“I thought it’d take longer to get here,” Harry says.

“Good thing it didn’t,” Louis says. He lifts a bottle of wine from the bag. “You like wine?”

Harry hardly drinks it. Alcohol tends to affect him more strongly than it must humans. “I do,” he says anyway, because why not?

Louis tilts his head towards the door as if to say ‘come on’ and Harry follows him into the building.

On the ride up the lift, Louis asks him about his day and tells him about his own. He leaves Harry to kick off his shoes while he hurries into the kitchen to set his groceries down.

“Tell me you like pizza,” he calls from the kitchen.

Harry smiles. “I love pizza,” he says, beginning a stroll around the living room.

There’s a big fluffy leather couch positioned across from an entertainment console. Louis has all the gaming systems a person could need and a massive TV. He’s got a collection of records too, positioned around a record player, which Harry adores.

“I figured we could make them,” Louis says.

By the wall of windows, Harry spots a coat stand, and he approaches it, running his fingers up the sleeve of a leather jacket. “That sounds fun,” he says to Louis, and then buries his nose in the collar and inhales. His ears twitch at the sound of footsteps and he pulls away quickly, turning toward the kitchen.

“Want that glass of wine now?” Louis asks, peeking his head around the corner. He’s holding the opened bottle, and Harry meets him at the doorway with a ‘yes please’.

“This is a nice place,” Harry says, watching while Louis pours him a glass of wine.

“Thanks.” Louis smiles, turning to him. “I’ve only been here for about a year now. I like it. It’s a bit too big, I think. There’s also an upstairs.”

Harry accepts the wine glass from him, and they watch each other as they take their first sip. “Is it lonely?” Harry asks, licking wine from his lips.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry takes another sip and feels his head spinning already. “Well, now I'm here.” He doesn’t look at Louis after he says it, because it’s a bit forward. And presumptuous when Louis hasn’t even extended an invitation. He feels Louis’ gaze on him though, and it’s strange that eyes so icy blue would feel so hot.

“That’s true,” Louis says, his voice trailing off. He clears his throat. “Uh—”

Harry looks at him and finds Louis looking down.

“Your uh—” Louis tries again. He coughs again and points a finger downward.

When Harry looks, the blood rushes to his face dizzyingly. “Oh my God,” he exhales, reaching for his tail, which has curled itself possessively around Louis’ ankle. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Louis laughs. “Not like it hurt.”

“My ego is a little bruised,” Harry says.

“Maybe the pizza will help,” Louis says. “Pizza fixes anything.”

They spread all of the ingredients out on the countertop, and Louis starts up a playlist from his phone. And soon enough Harry’s hips are moving. And Louis’ drumming his fingers on the edge of the counter. Half the toppings actually make it to the pizza; the rest of the pepperoni and peppers, they eat as they work.

“I know Nicki’s entire part in this song,” Louis says, while ‘Bottom’s Up’ by Trey Songz plays.

Harry laughs as he pops another slice of pepperoni into his mouth. “Me too.”

“What?” Louis’ eyes widen. “That was supposed to be my  _thing_.”

Harry’s brows crease. “Your  _thing_?”

“My thing to impress you,” Louis says. He pops the pizzas in the oven and Harry’s smile widens.

“Impress me then,” Harry says.

Louis laughs, turning the volume up on his phone. He takes a sip of his wine, and Harry does the same. They nod their heads to the beat as Trey finishes up the chorus. And they try not to laugh as they deliver the verse.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. I’m really such a lady,” Louis says, setting his hand on his hip, and Harry snorts, covering his mouth. “I rep young money. You know Slim, Baby?”

It’s ridiculous. Harry can’t finish the verse, too tipsy or too choked up with laughter. And way too impressed by Louis finishing it and throwing the rest of his wine back like a fucking champ. Maybe a little turned on, too? But he’s starting to think that’s inevitable around him.

Louis pours them fresh glasses of wine when the pizza’s finished. Harry’s head is spinning as he follows him to the living room and to the couch.

“You alright?” Louis asks.

Harry sets his wine glass down. “I don’t usually drink this much.”

Louis smiles. “Want some water?”

Harry makes a face. “No. Think I’d rather have this pizza,” he says, lifting a slice for a bite.

They eat with a football game playing, while Louis explains the rules, and Harry alternates between staring at the telly screen and staring at him. When they’re finished eating, he curls his legs up to his chest, and sips his wine. He feels warm and cosy and safe here. He feels Louis beside him even if they aren’t touching at all…

“Harry.”

Harry looks at him. “Hm?” And then down where his tail has ended up across Louis’ lap. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Louis says, running his thumb over the end of Harry’s tail, brushing the short hairs forward, then back. “Soft.”

Harry just sits there with his heart thumping loud, the blood rushing and whooshing in his ears.

“So…” Louis begins. “I take it this means you like me.”

Harry meets his gaze. “You could see it that way.”

"Good. Because I like you too." Louis smiles. “I don't know if you know this, but it's actually my first time dating…”

“Someone like me?”

“Yes,” Louis says. “Or at least pursuing a relationship with…someone like you. I don’t know exactly how this all works.”

Harry looks at his tail in Louis’ palm again. “I think you’re meant to figure it out as you go,” he says. “That’s what Alistair told me. It’s different for everyone.”

“Alistair?”

“My previous owner,” Harry explains.

Alistair told him a lot of things about hybrid/human relationships: how it functions in a similar way to the way human sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships do. The human provides for the hybrid in exchange for companionship and sex. The difference is that hybrid/human relationships are usually meant to last a lifetime, though they rarely do.

“You lived with him,” Louis says. It’s not a question, and so Harry says nothing. Louis looks at him. “And you’d live with me?”

“If you wanted me,” Harry says. “Yes.”

Louis gives him this look, one that makes the hairs on Harry’s tail stand tall. “You have no idea—” Louis says. “I haven't really thought about much else.”

“Neither have I,” Harry says, and if not for the wine, he might not be so bold as to move closer. He gets to his knees and crawls forward. Louis shifts, so that he’s facing him fully. And his arms open as Harry eases right into his lap.

Louis’ body is warm too. Everything about him is inviting in the way a spot by the fireplace is or a fluffy bed during the winter. Harry has missed having a human to snuggle up to (and snuggling with anyone has never felt like this). But it's kissing that has him most excited. He looks at Louis’ mouth.

“Smooth,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s thighs. “Very smooth.”

“I’m a cat,” Harry tells him. "Of course I'm smooth."

He presses his mouth to Louis’, as if he’s been doing it his whole life. He’s given Alistair chaste greeting kisses before but he’s never been kissed like  _this_. He’s never been kissed with tongue. He feels hungry, desperate. Louis licks into his mouth and Harry answers by sinking his canines into Louis’ bottom lip as they part for breath. Louis hisses, changes the angle of the kiss, and slides his tongue against Harry’s again. His fingers press into Harry’s thighs, and then into his hips, sliding up beneath his shirt.

He pulls back. “Do you think we’re moving too quickly?”

Harry shakes his head. “Maybe,” he says on second thought. “But I don’t care.”

Louis’ Adam’s apple bobs. “Me neither,” he says, the last syllable muffle as they kiss, and pull apart. “I didn’t expect this to happen so quickly. But I’m ready for it, whatever that means.”

Harry waits, both of their hearts thudding so hard between them. All he wants is to hear that one question, the only one he’s wanted to hear for years, the only one any hybrid wants.

Louis looks at him, his brows arched. “Will you come stay with me?”

Harry smiles, tilting his head back for a moment. He exhales, his chest sinking. “Yes,” he says, and then again, looking at Louis. "Yes." He almost expects to wake up now. Only in a dream would it be this easy and this perfect. But minutes go by of Louis kissing him on the couch and Harry hasn’t woken up.

<< 

>>  **louis**

Harry comes at the end of the week with all his bags and books and his goldfish named Chowder.

“This is your room,” Louis says, opening the door to the spare room, the one that has the most light. It's on the upper level, accessible by a spiral staircase. “I can make whatever changes you want. If you need something, I can get it.”

He had the walls painted a soft blue recently. The electric fireplace is already lit. There’s also a mini-fridge, a TV, a bookcase, and a separate en suite. He was meticulous about everything. He even slept in the room the previous night. He read in some article that it’ll make a hybrid more comfortable if their new bed smells like their human.

He notices that Harry is quiet and when he turns, he finds his eyes trained on him. He’s not smiling. Louis should probably read less articles.

“Do you like it?” he asks cautiously.

Harry casts a glance over the room. “It’s nice,” he says. “I thought I’d be sleeping with you?”

Louis looks away, clearing his throat. “I’d like that, yeah. But this way you have your own space. I don’t expect you to sleep in my bed until you’re completely comfortable.”

He hurries on with the rest of his tour after that. He shows Harry his office. “You’re welcome in here or any part of the flat whenever you want, obviously,” he says. He gestures at the bookshelves lining the walls. “There’s plenty of room for more books too.”

Harry is looking over a few of the books now, his head tilted as he reads the spines. “Thank you,” he says. He looks up. “Will you show me your room?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, leaning away from the doorframe. “It’s this way.”

Harry takes a discreet whiff of the air when they get to the bedroom but Louis sees him anyway. He sees Harry eying the bed and the extra bookshelves and the chair by the window that might be perfect for his naps. Louis would like that.

“Oh,” he says excitedly, tugging Harry’s hand. “You’ll love this.”

He pulls him over to the glass door, covered by long thick dark red curtains and pushing them back. He leads Harry out into the chilly February air and onto a patio with a small garden with rose bushes and a table where they can eat or read.

“It’s much nicer in the summer. I take naps out here all the time,” Louis says. “If you want.”

Harry smiles brightly, his eyes darting around. “I love it,” he says, a little breathlessly. “It’s perfect.”

Louis’ chest swells like a proud bird. “If there’s anything else you need in the house, just let me know and I’ll get it for you.”

Harry presses a firm kiss to his cheek and his lips leave Louis’ skin warm. “Thank you,” he says.

>> 

The best thing about having a hybrid is coming home to him. That moment when Louis pushes the door open and finds Harry waiting is the sweetest. It’s only been four days but he ends each one already excited for the next and for the next week and the next year. As long as possible, he hopes.

“I just confirmed a lecture I’m doing at your alma mater,” Louis says to Harry. He takes another bite of his cupcake, one from the batch Harry brought home from the bakery. “Would you want to come with me? And watch?”

“I’d love to,” Harry says, licking icing off his thumb. Louis watches his lips pucker, red and full. Sinful, really. “Don’t you have an interview coming up soon too?”

“Yeah. With BBC,” Louis confirms, tearing his gaze away from Harry’s mouth. He takes another bite of his cupcake. “I should be able to get you backstage for that too. If you want.”

Harry smiles. “You don’t mind bringing your cat along with you?”

Louis loves the sound of _your_ , how right it feels describing Harry. “No,” he says. “I’d take you everywhere with me.”

Harry grins, taking another big bite of his cupcake. A small dollop of icing sticks to the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Louis reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb, brushing Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s tail twitches. He does that when he’s excited. Or happy.

He looks at Harry’s mouth and offers his thumb, and Harry understands right away, wrapping his lips around Louis’ thumb. He sucks. Louis shifts discreetly so his trousers don’t stretch so tightly over his crotch. The pressure of Harry’s tongue would be perfect elsewhere.

He pulls his thumb free and connects their mouths instead. Harry  _purrs_. It’s a soft, continuous rumble in his chest, vibrating, humming between them. The sound is lovely, urges Louis closer. Harry shuffles back so that Louis can climb atop him, between his legs.

He tastes of strawberry and sugar. His lips are slightly sticky and every breath he exhales into Louis’ mouth is hot and eager. He reaches for Louis’ waistband and Louis wants to let him touch. They’re still moving too fast. All the articles say you should wait at least a week before making a move on your hybrid. Let them acclimate and assess their territory. He and Harry are moving faster than they should be, but Louis can’t slow down either.

The oven dings just as Harry gets the drawstring unfastened. Louis takes it as a sign to stop. He pushes himself up with his forearms, panting heavily.

“That's the lasagna, isn't it?” he asks.

Harry blinks up at him, dark curls spilling all around his head. “Yes…”

Louis presses a kiss to his forehead. “We should go have dinner then, yeah?”

Harry’s eyes are cast downward between their bodies, and Louis definitely feels like a tit. Harry withdraws his hands. “Okay,” he says. He presses a kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth and drops his arms to his sides. “I’ll get the wine too.”

Louis climbs off him and Harry leaves, tugging his shirt down a little over his crotch. It doesn’t hide a thing. Louis drops his forehead into his hands and tells himself quietly to “get it together.”

>> 

There’s a knock at his bedroom door just as he’s starting to fall asleep. The door opens a fraction and Harry peeks his head in, his long hair pulled up into a top knot, leaving his ears more pronounced than usual.

Louis sits up a bit, braced on his elbows. “You okay?”

Harry pushes the door open a bit wider and steps inside. “Yeah,” he says. “Everything’s fine.”

Louis studies him. “Are you sure?”

Harry shuts the door behind him and takes a few steps closer. “I’m ready to sleep in here,” he says. “With you.”

“Oh,” Louis exhales, his heart starting to race. Quickly, he scoots to the side and lifts his duvet for Harry to climb under. Harry shuffles into bed with him, shuffles close until their noses are nearly brushing. Louis throws the duvet over them both and drops his arm across Harry’s waist.

“Good?” he asks.

Harry nods, shuffling closer. He hadn’t lied about being good at cuddling. He knows how to mold himself to Louis’ body so that all the warmth from his body radiates into Louis’. His nose brushes the bottom of Louis’ neck. Holding another person has never been this instantly satisfying.

“I like the way you smell,” Harry says quietly.

Louis squeezes Harry around the waist, and whispers, “What do I smell like?”

“Home,”  Harry says, and Louis stays up much later thinking about that answer. He listens to Harry snore softly and purr at random, and it definitely feels like home.

<< 

>>  **harry**

As soon as Harry’s eyes flutter open. the glare of the morning sun is too much and he shuts them again. He shuffles backward, receding into the warmth of Louis’ body behind him, and freezes.

He knows it’s Louis, of course. He knows that smell by now. His favorite smell already. He was prepared to wake up to it. To wake up to Louis’ body against his own. It was the very reason he worked up the courage to crawl into bed with him at all.

What he’s not prepared for is Louis’ cock against his bum.

Harry licks his lips, swallows, and stays very,  _very_  still.

Louis is moving enough for both of them. He’s asleep, Harry thinks, but his arm tightens around Harry’s waist, and his hips shift. His breath puffs lightly on Harry’s neck, raising goosebumps on his skin, and he makes a noise, a soft sleepy grunt before falling quiet.

They both have pants on but the fabric is thin and leaves nothing to the imagination. Harry can’t help it. He shifts his hips and Louis does the same, grinding forward in his sleep. Harry holds his tail to his chest so he doesn’t accidentally slap Louis in the face with it. That’d definitely get him up.

Harry turns his face into his pillow and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He can’t help it. He pushes his bum into Louis’ crotch.

And then he feels Louis tense. And he does the same.

His eyes pop open. He waits for Louis to say something. Anything would be great. But he doesn’t.

“You don’t have to stop,” Harry whispers.

Louis exhales. “I probably should,” he says, although in spite of that, his arm tightens around Harry’s waist. He rests his forehead against the back of Harry’s head. “You’re nice to wake up to, though.”

“So are you,” Harry says. “You  _really_  don’t have to stop.”

“Hm,” Louis hums, pressing a firm kiss to Harry’s neck.

Harry begins to purr. He feels Louis’ mouth curve against his skin.

“I love that,” Louis says. He runs his fingers across Harry’s ribs. “I love how you sound.”

Harry pushes his hand down further. “Please.”

Louis huffs a laugh. “I wish, kitten.” He gives Harry’s hip a squeeze. “But I’ve got a meeting with my agent.” He sits upright, and Harry does the same.

“Not for another two hours.”

Louis climbs out of bed. “I have to get ready so I can beat traffic,” he says. He covers his erection with his hand, which is an odd display of discretion when he’d been dry-humping Harry seconds ago. He stands, looking at Harry with something resembling regret. “You look beautiful.”

Harry pats the mattress and tries for a smile. “Then stay in bed with me.”

“Tonight, I promise,” Louis says. “We’ll cuddle all you want.”

Harry watches him slip into the bathroom and then collapses in bed again with a heavy sigh. He stares down at the tent in his pants with contempt.

It’s obviously not a cuddle he wants.

>> 

That afternoon, he meets Liam for tea at the bakery.

They've sustained an odd friendship since the start of uni. Liam has been dating a woman named Lena for two years but he also has a hybrid named Aiden. There was a time Liam had even been interested in Harry. He’d offered numerous times to take him in if he ever got tired of Alistair. But it’s always made more sense to Harry for them to be friends. Especially now when he really needs one.

Liam takes a bite of his donut and licks his fingers clean. “So what’s wrong?”

Harry breaks off a piece of his biscuit but doesn’t eat it. “Having a human isn’t what I thought it’d be.”

“And what did you think it’d be?” Liam asks, folding his hands together and propping his chin atop them.

Harry reaches for his tea and has a sip. “It’s just way more complicated than I expected. I imagined I’d find the one and we’d just fall together and everything would be sort of effortless. And it isn’t like that at all. Louis is…complicated.”

Liam smiles. “He’s human.”

Harry gives him a look. “That was so helpful, Liam. Thank you.”

“What I mean is that he’s got flaws just like you and insecurities. We're all naturally complicated. What's going wrong anyhow? I thought things were great.”

Harry’s pride makes him hesitate. He takes another sip of his tea, sets the cup down. “We haven’t had sex.”

Liam’s brows shoot upward. “At all?”

“At all.” Harry shrugs.

“Well, you’ve only been there for a week,” Liam says.

Harry shakes his head. “But we’ve come close a few times and then he pulls away. Like he doesn’t want to or he’s not interested.”

“You’re great, Harry. I doubt that,” Liam says with a reassuring smile. “I think it’d help to just be direct and tell him what you want.”

“I don’t want to be forceful,” Harry says.

“It'd be honest. Not forceful.”

Harry reaches for his tea and has another sip. “We'll see.”

<< 

>>  **louis**

Harry sniffs things a lot. Louis read that it’s normal. It’s another part of acclimating. So is peeing apparently for some of the less tame hybrids, ones who haven’t been raised among civilization. He doesn’t think Harry’s been peeing on anything but he isn’t going to ask.

As far as he knows, Harry only sniffs. Everything, it seems. His food. The couch. The coat cupboard. The carpet sometimes when he thinks Louis isn’t looking.

He sniffs Louis. He’s always very careful and discreet about it. It takes a while before Louis even starts to notice. When he comes home and they hug, Harry always turns his head just so and inhales. And when they’re in bed, right before he falls asleep, he presses his nose to Louis’ neck, inhales. When they’re on the couch too, watching a movie, he does it then.

Louis can't say he doesn't like it. He likes everything Harry does.

That day he comes home to Harry sniffing one of Louis’ coats. And not curiously the way he sniffs most things. He has the coat pressed to his face. His eyes are closed peacefully and he’s taking a big deep inhale like the smell comforts him, like it’s a drug.

Louis clears his throat. “Hi.”

Harry drops the coat and fumbles to pick it back up. Louis can actually see the blood flushing Harry’s cheeks and ears. “I was just,” Harry begins. He starts brushing the coat off. “—Just dusting off some things. Doing some cleaning.”

“Right,” Louis says. He steps close to him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

Harry smiles, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck. His nose brushes Louis’ cheek. He’s scenting him again. Louis holds him close until he’s satisfied.

“Did you miss me?” he asks.

“Always,” Harry replies. He draws back and presses a chaste kiss to Louis’ mouth.

Louis raises the bags in his free hand. “I picked up Thai.”

They have dinner on the couch. It’s Friday night and Louis keeps meaning to take Harry out. Maybe to a club or something and see him really let loose. But he’s tired and needs a cuddle tonight. Harry finishes his coconut shrimp and his glass of wine, his lashes fluttering slowly, lazily as the alcohol takes effect on him.

He’s beautiful like this. Always beautiful. But right now, he’s calm and languid, eyes glowing from the light of the television, lips slightly pouted. He glances at Louis, finds Louis looking at him, and smiles.

“Come here,” Louis says.

Harry perks up immediately. He eases closer until he’s right beside him and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis runs his fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his forehead and the purring starts.

It’s been nearly two weeks now. Barring the slight hiccup on Sunday — when he’d had a chance to touch Harry and ducked out — he thinks they’re fine. He thinks they’re making progress, even if he can’t work up the nerve to actually lay a finger on him.

Louis presses another kiss into Harry’s curls. Harry turns his head, the tip of his nose brushing Louis’ neck. He keeps moving until his lips meet Louis’ jaw. Louis wonders if it’s the alcohol, and then he can’t be arsed to care. With his arm around Harry’s shoulders, he cups his jaw, and directs his mouth upward.

Harry sets his hand on Louis' thigh and strokes his fingers back and forth. He moans softly around Louis’ tongue, fingers moving higher. Louis breaks the kiss.

"You know we don't have to move too fast," he says. “I’m fine with that.”

Harry blinks. "I've been here for almost two weeks. I think we're moving a bit slow…"

Possibly. "I just don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't absolutely want to." Louis doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. He sighs. “Does that make sense?”

Harry leans off of his chest. He pushes his hair away from his face, exhaling a heavy breath. "I like you, Louis," he says. "That's why I'm here."

"I like you too," Louis says. “I just want you to know that sex isn’t mandatory.”

Harry’s brows crease. "Who said it was?"

Fucking hell. "Okay, I’m upsetting you.”

“A little bit, yes,” Harry says, confusedly. The concept seems to surprise him too. “You’re treating me like a cat. Like you brought me home in a box and I wasn’t fully aware of what I was getting myself into.”

“That’s not—”

“If I were human, I think you would have fucked me by now,” Harry says. “That’s all.”

And he’s absolutely right. They sit in silence for a moment while Harry situates himself on the opposite side of the couch again, and Louis stares at his hands in his lap. It’s true. If Harry were human, if he were some bloke Louis had been seeing for two weeks, they’d have shagged at least a few times already. And he can’t even work up the nerve to undress in front of him sometimes.

It’s true that he’s treating him like a cat. He’s treating him like the strays, and like the skittish hybrid he’d started to care about. And not because he means to degrade him, but because that’s all he knows. Because any time he’s gotten close to Harry’s kind before, he’s scared them away.

There’s never been one like this one. So willing and eager to charge headfirst into this thing with Louis. And Louis hasn’t wrapped his head around that entirely. Obviously.

“I'm sorry,” he says. He meets Harry’s gaze. “I'm just—"

"New to this," Harry finishes for him. "I know.” His voice is softer now, and his ears are pressed down into his hair. He has his tail curled around himself. And Louis hates that he did that to him, that he made him feel insecure or unsure. Louis pushes himself up and moves closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, sliding his arm around Harry’s waist.

Harry shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Louis sets his cool fingers on the back of Harry's neck, stroking gently. "The one before you, I wasn’t actually close with him, but I tried to take care of him and he was afraid of me, of all humans. I know how hard it can be for you. I know that people like to take advantage. And I never want to be one of those people."

“You’re not even close,” Harry says. He presses a quick kiss to Louis’ lips and smiles, although it’s noticeably still tense. “I’m feeling tired. Think it’s the wine getting to me.” He stands, their fingers slipping apart. “Coming?”

Louis would rather them stay here and rewind to the moment Harry’s hand was sliding up his thigh. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 Reluctantly, he stands and follows Harry to their room.

>>          

The following morning he has another meeting with his agent and obviously, rushing out of bed doesn't help things at all. When he leaves the loo, it's with his toothbrush frozen in his mouth and guilt creeping over him. Harry has turned over in bed, half his face buried in Louis’ pillow, and watches Louis silently.

“I have a meeting with my agent,” Louis says.

“Have fun.” Harry smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes or make Louis feel any better. Harry turns over again, pulling the duvet up to his neck so that just his fluffy hair and ears are visible. Louis finishes dressing in silence. It's only as he's leaving that he returns to the bed, sinking a knee into the mattress.

He presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”

Harry exhales a soft sleepy sigh. “Good,” he says, and Louis leaves, already feeling desperate to get back.

He’s sitting in a cafe now, thinking of Harry and of how he’s been needing a new agent for weeks now. His current one is sort of useless. It’s the fifth time in a row that he’s been late for one of their meetings and all Louis wants is to finish this up and get home.

He polishes off his first cup of tea and is just starting another when the redhead man plops down in the seat across from him.

“Oliver,” Louis says plainly. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was typical,” Oliver says. Which means he should have known to expect it, should have left a bit earlier to get here in time. Louis doesn't say so. Oliver starts smearing cream on a scone. “Did you finish the author’s note? And look over those papers I sent you?”

Louis reaches into his leather bag and pulls out a manila folder containing a drafted contract for his latest movie deal and the author’s note for his upcoming book. He hands the folder to Oliver and takes a sip of his tea. “That’s all we needed to take care of, yeah? I think we could postpone discussing everything else. I need to get home.”

“To the new kitten?” Oliver asks, wiggling his brows.

Louis can’t help it. The thought of Harry makes him smile. “Yeah. I want to pick up a gift for him.”

“So things are going well then?”

“I think so, yeah. I think they’re great. I'm still just trying to take things slow. Trying to be respectful of what he wants. I guess I haven't been doing the best job there—”

Oliver makes a face. "You're talking about him like he's human, mate."

Louis' brows sink into a crease.

"Sorry," Oliver says. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. "It's just not the way most people talk about their hybrids."

"It's how I talk about mine," Louis says. “I think most people also forget that hybrids  _are_  human. Even if they're only half.”

“Just saying.” Oliver shrugs. “Didn’t mean to piss you off.”

There are a million things Louis wants to say. None of them are good. Half of them might get him kicked out of the restaurant. And this man is his business partner, after all. Maybe not for long. But Louis will bite his tongue for now.

“Enjoy your breakfast,” Louis says as he stands.

He's still pissed in the car on the way to Westfields. He goes a little overboard with the shopping. He buys a candle, two new jumpers, a scarf, and after some coercing from a saleswoman, a few pairs of lace lingerie. At worst, Harry will find them hilarious and Louis will return them to the shop. Louis spends way too much money on just a handful of designer items and that’s his cue to head home.

And Harry isn’t there.

He checks everywhere for him until there’s nowhere else he could possibly be. The flat is big but not big enough that you could lose a whole person. Louis didn’t get home as soon as he wanted to, but it’s Saturday and Harry doesn’t have to work and as far as Louis knows, he  _should_  be here.

Unless he’s avoiding him.

Louis sinks into the couch and rests his head back, squeezing the bridge of his nose. This is all more difficult than he ever expected.

His phone rings and he fishes it out of his back pocket. He’s hoping it’s Harry but it turns out to be Niall, begging Louis to come out for drinks. “Bring him,” he says of Harry. “Zayn wants to meet him too.”

“I’ll ask him,” Louis says, dragging himself up for a shower.

He cleans up a bit afterwards, out of anxiety more than habit. He folds Harry’s blanket up and straightens it on the back of the couch. He puts water on to boil and watches it while running a towel through his hair. And then he hears the front door open and close.

Harry is holding a box from the bakery, his head bowed while he removes a boot, which causes his hair to fall forward and block his view.

“Hey,” Louis says.

He looks at Louis fleetingly. “Hi,” he says, kicking off his second shoe. He straightens both by the door.

“I thought you didn’t have to work today.”

“I didn’t,” Harry says. “I met up with a friend. And then I went to the library for a bit. Then I popped into the bakery.”

Definitely avoiding him, then. Louis never prepared for this. When he read all those manuals and articles about living with a hybrid, they never prepared him for one so human. It sounds awful, but it’s true. That’s not to say he’d change a thing about Harry. But he’s struggling, without a doubt.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” he asks. He doesn’t allow himself time to second guess. “Some friends of mine will be at this club. They’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

Harry’s dimple appears, his lips curving slowly. Louis feels lighter already. “I’d love to,” Harry says, looking genuinely excited. “Sounds fun.”

“Good. I’ll let them know.” Louis smiles. “I put some water on to boil. Fancy a cuppa?”

“Yes, please,” Harry says, joining Louis at the doorway to the kitchen. “I've got biscuits.”

<< 

>>  **harry**

Louis takes his hand when they’re entering the club, sends him a reassuring smile, and brushes his thumb back and forth over Harry’s skin. He’s always so careful with him. There are times — like right now — when Harry enjoys it. And other times, like last night, when he doesn’t.

Nonetheless, Harry is happier than ever to be here with him and eager to meet his friends. He feels like it’s a critical milestone. Someday soon he hopes he’ll even meet Louis’ family.

Louis pushes himself up on his tippy toes in an attempt to see over the heads of strangers. And Harry cranes his neck too, and spots Zayn. His eyes widen.

“Found them,” Louis says and starts tugging Harry forward.

Harry will wave when he passes Zayn. It’s been too long since he’s seen him. There’s so much he hasn’t told him, like the fact that he’s with someone at all. They’re getting close to his table. Harry sees Niall with him too, his arm thrown across the back of Zayn’s chair.

And Louis isn’t turning or veering off. He’s headed straight for them. Harry’s brows begin to crease just as Louis comes to a stop at the table and pulls him forward.

Niall grins. “Here they are!” he says happily, standing and tugging Louis into a hug.

Zayn stares at Harry, a drink frozen just in front of his mouth. And then Niall breaks from the hug and gets a good look at him and freezes too.

“Harry?” Niall squeaks.

Harry lifts his free hand and waves. “Hi.”

“Wait a minute,” Niall says, looking at Zayn.

Zayn shrugs. “I’m just as surprised as you.”

Louis looks at all three of them. “Sorry, what?”

“We should sit,” Harry says. And so they all sit.

Zayn is the first to speak. “Louis is the friend I tried to tell you about. The one who was single and looking.”

Harry processes that. “You could’ve been more insistent,” he mumbles.

Zayn scoffs, taking a sip of his drink.

“How long have you two known each other?” Louis asks them.

“We met at a party for newly graduated cats,” Harry explains. “At the start of the summer.”

Louis looks at Niall. “And you didn’t mention him because…?”

“I tried,” Niall says, raising his hands in a show of surrender. “Even though, I wasn't supposed to. Zayn said Harry wanted to find someone on his own. And when I tried to mention him to you anyway, you got all pissy.”

Harry sighs. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Hey,” Louis says, squeezing his thigh. “If you are, then so am I. You wanted to take charge and I like that about you.”

Harry looks at his soft lips curving into a soft smile. “Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“I would never,” Louis says, ardently.

Harry pushes his fringe out of his eyes and returns Louis’ smile. He remembers in the same instant as Louis that they aren’t alone. When they look, Zayn and Niall are staring at them, their brows arched.

“Well, aren’t you two cute,” Niall says, his nose scrunched up. “I’m ordering shots for the table! What are you drinking, Harry?”

Harry asks for a beer, whichever one Louis is having. Niall and Louis head off to the bar, and Harry stares pointedly at Zayn.

Zayn slaps his drink down on the table. “What?”

“You never said Niall’s friend looked like  _that_.”

“You didn't give me a chance to say anything about him. You're both too stubborn,” Zayn says. “Anyway, look at how it all turned out. You found each other without any help.”

He’s got a point. Harry likes a good bit of serendipity as much as anyone else, but still—

Louis and Niall return with their drinks, including a tray of shots, that Harry eyes warily. Zayn lifts a glass without batting an eyelash. It’s completely possible that Harry’s low tolerance has nothing at all to do with being a hybrid. Maybe he just hasn’t gotten out enough. He lifts a shot himself, gives it a discreet sniff and lifts it like everyone else.

“To Louis and Harry,” Niall says.

Harry and Louis exchange a bashful smile, bringing the shots to their mouths. They throw them back and deposit the empties bottoms up on the table. The alcohol burns on its way down Harry’s throat and the effect is almost instantaneous. He reaches for his beer and has two greedy draughts.

Zayn meets his gaze, an amused smirk on his lips. “We should dance, yeah?” he says.

Niall looks at him, bright-eyed and a little awestruck. He’s never looked at him any other way. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Zayn pats his knee and nods toward the dance floor. Niall shuffles out of the booth, taking his hand. He has one final sip of his beer before Zayn is tugging him away from the table.

“Do you want to go?” Louis asks Harry.

Harry’s head is swimming. As Niall and Zayn walk away, they look like they might be gliding forward. He blinks dazedly. “Yeah,” he says to Louis. His brows crease. “Go where?”

Louis’ eyes narrow. He inspects him closely. “Harry, are you drunk?”

“Possibly,” Harry says. “What did you just give me?”

“Tequila,” Louis says. “Maybe we should’ve started you off with a glass of water.”

Harry snorts. “I can handle myself.” Another shot and he’d die for sure. He reaches for his beer. Misses and tries again. He has another sip, spilling a bit on his chin. He wipes himself clean, burps with his fingers pressed to his lips, and looks at Louis. “Do you want to dance?”

Louis laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re adorable.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry protests. “I’m a manly cat. A big cat.”

Seeing the smile on Louis’ face makes his own grow. He’s suddenly more aware of Louis’ arm around his waist. He wiggles a bit closer and Louis squeezes his hip. “Whatever you say, love,” Louis teases. He presses a kiss to Harry’s mouth and says, “Let’s go dance.”

Harry follows him out of the booth and Louis leads him by the hips to the dance floor. It’s so much darker here, barely lit by two dimly colored spotlights. Harry’s eyes work just fine in the dark, but he doesn’t need to see Louis to keep track of him. He feels attuned to him already. After just a week.

When they dance they’re closer than they’ve ever been. And they let loose because the music forces them to. Because a few of their favorite songs come on and the lights are shining like sun rays and Louis is so close and so warm.

He’s only danced with strange men in clubs before, never with someone he actually liked. And it makes him possessive and shameless and needy. He holds onto Louis tightly as they move and buries his nose in his neck and inhales him. He nips gently on Louis’ skin which seems to be the trigger that tips the mood. Louis squeezes his hip and then lower, squeezes his bum. Harry curls a bit closer, positions his legs so he can grind a bit against Louis’ thigh. It’s not slipped his notice that Louis is a bit hard, so he pushes his thigh against him too.

“Harry—”

Harry pulls back and looks at him. It’s going to be a ‘no’ again or a ‘later’ that never comes.

Louis takes his hand. “Let’s head home.”

>> 

Harry steps into the flat first, bumping into the lamp by the door. He laughs at himself and Louis laughs too.

“One shot and you’re a mess.”

“I’ll be better next time,” Harry says, stumbling toward the couch where he collapses on his back, one leg over the arm, the other hanging over the edge.  Louis doesn’t bother with the light either, but Harry can see him well in the dark, sees him toss his keys onto the table by the lamp. Even if he couldn’t see him, there’s also the lingering scent of Louis’ sweat. There’s always his scent. Everywhere Harry goes, he can smell or taste him in the air. He adds quietly, “Promise.”

Louis looks at him. “Did you have fun?”

Harry smiles. “I did. You?”

“Lots of fun,” Louis says, approaching the couch. Harry watches him, his heart thudding too loud in his ears. “Didn’t know you could move like that.”

“I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeves,” Harry says.

“Aw, love. I didn’t even have to train you.”

“Watch it,” Harry says, narrowing his eyes.

Louis giggles. In the dark, when Harry can’t make out every laugh line, the sound is sharper, clearer. He loves Louis’ laughter too. “What are you going to do, huh?” Louis asks. “Scratch me?”

“Sounds kinky,” Harry says.

Louis laughs again. He steps closer, reaches for Harry’s left foot, unzips his boot and pulls it off. He kneels by the couch and does the same for Harry’s right foot.

“Let’s go to bed,” Louis says.

And Harry knows, or at least he’s pretty sure that Louis doesn’t mean to sleep. Louis holds his hand open and out for him and Harry takes it, allowing Louis to pull him to his feet.

In the bedroom, Harry watches Louis take a seat on the bed and push off his shoes while he hovers patiently by the door. Louis looks at him and huffs a laugh. “What are you doing?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t really know.”

“Come here," Louis says with a sigh.

And okay, Harry can do that. He moves closer and Louis’ hands curl around the backs of his knees. He pulls him down onto his lap, one knee at a time sinking into the bed and then Harry is straddling him. And once he’s there, he feels in his element again. He feels loose and relaxed, and he leans into him and kisses Louis because too many hours have gone by since he last did.

When Louis’ hands reach up beneath his shirt, Harry pulls the shirt off. It’s got buttons but Harry hasn’t got the time.

“Look at you,” Louis says, his eyes running across Harry’s body. “So beautiful.”

He kisses the center of his chest, his shoulder. He mouths at his nipple, runs his teeth over it. His lips meet every inch of Harry’s torso, each slope and dip of his abs. Harry moves his hips against Louis’, grinding half-mindless in his lap. He used to get himself off like this, rutting into his mattress, trying to stay quiet so he didn’t wake Alistair. This feels worlds better and he can be as loud as he wants.

Louis pushes his hand down into Harry's jeans. He feels his fingertip against his hole and he groans, pressing his face into Louis’ neck. And that must be the cue for Louis to turn them over and push Harry down onto the mattress. Harry’s so hard he hurts. He could come like this with just Louis’ hands and mouth on him.

Louis pulls his own shirt over his head and reaches immediately for Harry’s jeans, hooking his fingers over the waistband. Harry lifts his hips as if to say 'yes' and Louis drags them down his legs without pretense, without comment. Because he’s not timid in bed at all. He was careful with Harry at first because he’s polite. And now it seems, he’s done with politeness. He looks at him, his gaze sliding from his torso to his hard cock, and Harry squirms.

It’s too tense. Harry likes being on edge, but it’s too much so soon. So he jokes, “Like what you see?”

Louis cracks a smile. “Actually I’m starting to crave ice cream,” he says. “Might go have a bowl instead.”

“I would die,” Harry says morbidly.

Louis laughs. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You’re still wearing your jeans,” Harry says. “This is actual torture. I’m calling the RSPCA.”

They both laugh until their stomachs hurt and even as Louis stands and shoves his jeans and pants down his legs, they’re still laughing. And then the laughter dies and Harry’s hubris evaporates when he’s got his eyes on Louis’ cock. He goes silent and their eyes meet. Louis lifts his brows. “We can stop,” he says.

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” He lies back, resting his hands on his tummy and smiles. “I’m all yours.”

Louis’ gaze goes soft. He crawls back over his body again, pressing his hands into the mattress, sliding a strand of hair away from Harry's eye. “All mine.”

<< 

>>  **louis**

November, December, and January are golden.

Happiness is the way Harry looks in the morning, the way his hips feel between Louis’ hands, the way his ears twitch randomly at the faintest of sounds including the wind in the trees or Louis’ socked feet on the hardwood floors, and the way his tail ends up across Louis’ lap when they’re sitting on the couch. Happiness is Harry and being with Harry. Happiness is the look on Harry’s face when he steps into the flat on the 1st of February.

For a little while, Louis thought Harry was catching onto him. Because Harry is clever and intuitive, and he’s always watching him with that unnerving degree of feline concentration.

But that afternoon, when Harry comes home from the library, he’s never looked more shocked. In fact, the whole scared kitty thing holds true with the way he hunches his shoulders and widens his eyes. And then the happiness radiates from his smile and his dimple and his bright eyes.

“Happy Birthday!” their friends yell, all dressed up and standing around the living room.

Louis sets a soothing hand on his lower back, and Harry hugs him. “Happy Birthday,” Louis says softly into his ear.

Harry pulls back, his cheeks flushed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” Louis says, pressing a kiss on his cheek. With a squeeze of his hip, he releases him and takes his hand, pulling him toward their guests. “Your mum and sister made the trip all the way here. All your friends and family.”

Harry squeezes his hand as they approach his family. He greets all of them with a hug and a kiss, making his way through all their guests with Louis in tow. His eyes grow wide again when he spots an older gentleman standing off to the side. “Alistair,” he says happily, rushing forward and throwing his arms around the old man’s shoulders. Louis leaves them to chat for a little while.

It's a modest affair, but Harry has a good time, sipping on fruity drinks and swinging his hips around to selections from Niall’s playlist. His tail nearly blinds someone but he isn’t paying attention at all. He drags Louis over to join him and clings to him, scenting him, rubbing their bodies together. He’s asking for it, perhaps a little too publicly.

A few of their guests linger after the majority have left. Niall and Zayn, for example. Alistair, for some strange reason. And two women by the grand piano, a human and a hybrid, clearly interested in taking each other home.

Harry is seated in Louis’ lap now. He has a one track mind once he’s got a little liquor in him. It’s almost embarrassing how intent he is, how he wiggles his bum against Louis’ crotch, and presses kisses over Louis’ neck with just a bit of tongue. He’s always so unapologetically needy. Louis loves that, except for the fact that they have company.

Niall looks at Zayn. “We should probably go,” he says, standing.

Louis smiles gratefully. When he looks, the two women are already grabbing their coats. In the next second, everyone but Alistair is gone. He watches the old man come sauntering over from the window, clad in an actual velvet blazer like Hugh Hefner. He looks at Harry.

“Is he asleep?”

Harry lifts his head. “Alistair,” he says happily, drunkenly. “I’m happy you came.”

“Me too, love,” Alistair says. “Thank you, Louis, for inviting me.”

Louis smiles. “No problem.”

“Louis is a good human,” Harry says. “The very best.” With that, he slides a hand down Louis’ chest, so dangerously close to reaching his crotch.

Louis looks at Alistair. “I really should get him to bed. I think he’s tired.”

Alistair looks unconvinced and even amused. “Of course. Have a good night, both of you.”

Louis watches him go. The front door shuts behind him and prompts Harry to lift his head. His mouth meets Louis’, his nails digging into Louis’ shoulders. “Bed,” he says.

“You sound like a caveman.”

Harry laughs, slipping out of Louis’ lap and onto his knees. “Harry wants bed now.”

“You did  _not_  just turn 23,” Louis decides, while Harry slides his hands up and down Louis’ thighs, digging his claws into the muscle a bit. Without warning, he unbuttons and unzips Louis’ trousers and pulls his cock into the open. He smiles devilishly and lowers his head to Louis’ lap, taking one greedy lick up the entire length of him.

Louis hisses, tugging Harry away by the curls, exposing his neck. The pain makes Harry mewl. Louis tsks. "Didn't say you could have that just yet.”

Harry sits back on his haunches, licking his lips. "Please?"

Louis’ eyes roam across his face, his brows slightly furrowed, his head swimming with the alcohol from earlier and a myriad of chaotic thoughts.

Harry’s pale green eyes have taken on that glassy, lucid quality Louis has witnessed more and more often lately. His tone is instantly obedient, which is unlike him. Sometimes when they fuck, Harry recedes. He’s not witty or sarcastic like usual. He’s pliant, physically and mentally too. He’s submissive, to put it plainly. Louis has so many questions, but they’re both too needy right now to see any of them answered.

“Go ahead,” Louis says.

Harry starts to lick at Louis' cock with small flicks of his tongue, the way a cat might lick its own paw. His ears flutter, the end of his tail lashes the air every now and then — all signs that he’s happy.

“You like being on your knees for me?” Louis asks him, although he couldn’t say why.

Harry groans, swirling his tongue around the head of Louis' cock. He licks at him like he's got an ice cream cone between his two hands.

“Get up here,” Louis says, patting the couch.

Harry pulls off with a little pop of his pretty lips and climbs up onto the couch.

“Keep going,” Louis tells him.

Harry positions himself so that he can lower his head back into Louis’ lap. Meanwhile, Louis slips his hand into the back of his jeans, slides a finger between his cheeks and presses against his hole.

Harry pulls off again and looks at him. “Louis," he says, preparing to whine.

“Don’t think you’re finished,” Louis says, his lips twitching.

And where Harry would normally make a verbal jab of his own, he’s silent. He turns his attention back to Louis' cock but he’s distracted while Louis rubs his rim. At this point he's just slobbering on him and then licking up his slobber. He sucks half-heartedly on the head, gasping and grunting each time Louis presses in with his fingertip and Louis takes advantage of his next gasp to thrust up into his warm mouth. The sound Harry makes turns muffled. He sinks down on Louis' cock and opens his throat for him, takes him down until he can't go any further. He's invigorated now, Louis suspects, because he likes it rough. He coughs, pulls off and chases the saliva running down Louis' length.

Louis drops his head back against the couch and groans. “That’s it, baby. I’m close.”

Harry doesn't let up or slow down. Even when he needs breath, he inhales deeply through his nostrils. His throat relaxes and flexes around Louis' cock. And it's too much. It's more than Louis can take. He comes while Harry keeps his mouth held open and works his fist up his length for more.

When Harry pulls off, he sits upright. His eyes are glassy and dazed like he’s taken a hit of weed, although the last time they tried that Harry wasn’t nearly as tranquil.

“Bed,” Louis says. He stands, holding his hand out for Harry to take.

With a soft smile, Harry stands, sliding his hand into Louis’. They leave a mess of paper plates and beer bottles behind, but it’ll have to wait till morning.

>> 

He takes Harry to the local sex shop that weekend under the pretense of buying him a birthday gift and tells him to browse.

His plan is simple. If there are kinks Harry’s hiding, this is the place to expose them. Trying to approach the topic organically has proved unsuccessful every time he’s tried — only two times so far, but the point stands. It’s more than a hair-pulling thing. He knows that, at least.

Louis picks up a bottle of hybrid friendly lube with a label that claims ‘all the kitties love me”. He has to buy something or Harry will figure him out. He heads back through the shop and spots Harry, eying a few items on the wall. Or one particular set of items.

Harry runs his fingers over a black leather collar, the tip of his tongue peeking between his lips. He thumbs the buckle attached to it and then reaches to touch the pink collar beside it. When Louis steps up beside him, immediately he pushes his hands into his pockets and turns away, almost shielding the collars from view with his broad shoulders.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“If you don’t want anything,” Louis says, watching a flush creep up Harry’s neck.

Harry shakes his head. “Think I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks. “Because honestly. If you want anything else, just tell me and we’ll get it. It’s your birthday.”

“There’s nothing—”

Louis grabs him by the waist. “Harry.”

Harry scrubs his face with the heels of his palms and sighs heavily.

“How about this?” Louis steps back. “What if we both picked one thing we're curious about? You don’t have to show me yours and I won’t show you mine. Not until we’re home.”

Harry gnaws on his bottom lip. “Just one thing?”

“As many as you’d like,” Louis says with another step back. “Okay?”

Harry hesitates. Nods. “Okay.” He noticeably doesn't move away from the collars. “I’ll meet you at the register.”

>> 

“Want to check it all out?” Louis asks as soon as they’re home.

Harry pushes off his shoes and looks at him. “Right this instant?”

“Only if you want,” Louis says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. The truth is that the curiosity is eating away at him. It kills more than just cats, as it turns out.

Harry removes his coat and scarf, hangs them up and then looks at Louis again. “Okay.”

They plop down on the couch. Louis sets the bag at their feet and reaches inside eagerly.

He pulls out a pink lace collar and places it on the coffee table. Harry shifts beside him. Louis reaches into the bag again and pulls out another collar, this one made of leather with hearts cut out all around it. Louis smiles as he draws yet another collar from the bag. This one is a white leather with spikes.

“Really like the collars, huh?”

Harry groans. “Did you not choose anything?” he says, reaching into the bag, a flush darkening his face and neck. He pulls out a black sash Louis picked up simply because it seemed useful and stares at it. “What’s this?”

“I think it’s for tying you up,” Louis says with a shrug. “Or blindfolding you.”

Harry licks his lips. “Do you want to do that?”

“Maybe,” Louis says. “Only if you do.”

“I think I’d like that,” Harry murmurs, setting the sash on the coffee table. His hand disappears in the bag again and returns with the lube. He inspects the label closely and then turns his gaze on Louis slowly.“All the kitty’s love me?”

Louis shoots him a wink. “Won't know for sure until we try it out."

Harry shakes his head, setting the lube down. Again he reaches into the bag and pulls out…

Another collar — black with a white faux fur trim — and he sighs. “This was a terrible idea.”

Louis laughs. “I like that one though.”

“Me too,” Harry says with a hint of a smile. He sets his hands in his lap. “I think that might be the last one.”

“If you say so,” Louis says, peeking into the bag. His brows furrow as he reaches inside and pulls out a riding crop. It's got a heart-shaped leather keeper, a long handle, and a wrist loop. Harry drags his hands down his face. His ears flatten on his head. His tail curls protectively around himself. He stares adamantly at his hands in his lap.

“Hey,” Louis says quickly, sitting closer, reaching for Harry’s hand. “You don’t have to be nervous about any of this stuff, I promise. I want to know what you like. I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good,” Harry assures him. “You do that already.”

“But how can I make you feel even better?” Louis asks. “If you don’t tell me what you like?”

Louis sets the riding crop on the table, and they stare at it for a second, along with the silk sash and all the collars. This is the notorious point of no return. Harry draws a steady breath. “I want to wear a collar,” he says. “Not always. Not even outside, if you don’t want me to. But in here, around you…”

“Okay,” Louis says. He nods to the riding crop. “And that?”

“I want you to use it,” Harry says, and then looks at him. “Before you fuck me.”

Louis’ mouth parts but no words come out. Not for several seconds. “You want me to hurt you?”

“Of course you'd see it that way, Louis. Always over-protective, even from yourself,” Harry says. “What I want is for you to punish me.”

Louis’ throat suddenly feels like it's lined with ash. He looks at Harry's mouth and thinks of the word ’sinful’. “Punish you for what?”

“You’d think of something,” Harry says. “Maybe it’s because I’m being too needy. Or too impatient. Or you tell me not to touch myself and I do it anyway.”

“Can't have that,” Louis says. He laughs and hopes he doesn’t sound as overwhelmed as he feels. He runs his palms down his jeans to dry them. “I need to read a bit more on all of this. Before we do anything.”

“A bit  _more_?” Harry asks, his brows shooting upward.

“You’ve been a little obvious,” Louis says. “I started to suspect.”

Harry frowns. “I thought I was being subtle.”

Louis snorts. “You  _thought_  so, yeah.” Something catches his eye in the bag between them. He reaches inside. “Forgot one,” he says, dropping another collar of gold leather on the table.

>> 

Louis doesn’t know how they end up here.

Well, he does, but he can’t believe they end up here.

At a cat cafe known as Cat’s Cradle.

To be fair, it was his idea. He saw the ad while he’d been Googling ‘BDSM with your hybrid’ and then he’d emailed it to Harry. God knows why. The thing is that he hadn’t expected Harry to be as excited as he was. He hadn’t expected Harry to know all about it already.

Cat’s Cradle isn’t your typical feline hangout. There are no lattes or scratching posts. There are poles. There are toys, yes, but the kind you use in the bedroom. There’s hard liquor, such as milk served in dishes and spiked.

And that’s where they end up Thursday night, sitting close in a round neon pink booth. It’s dimly lit, with just sconces mounted on the walls here and there, and pink and blue spotlights pointed across the room. All of the surrounding booths are similarly designed and they’re all occupied by hybrids and humans. Each booth faces an empty stage up ahead with its gold stripper pole, a solitary chair, and a mirror for a backdrop.

They ordered drinks before they could even get comfortable. Louis thinks they both needed them before they lost their nerve. Harry takes a sip of his and places the glass down carefully.

“You alright?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. “You?”

“A bit nervous. Expecting a tiger to pop out at us any minute now,” Louis says, and if nothing else, that gets Harry to smile and loosen up.

“Why a tiger?”

“Just seems like something these people would find sexy,” Louis says, sounding unimpressed. “A big powerful cat.”

“You don’t find this all sexy?”

Louis shrugs. “I find  _you_  sexy. That’s good enough for me.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Such a sweet talker,” he says, leaning in. He kisses Louis just once and settles into his side. They sip their drinks and look around at all the other tables. One thing Louis notices is that most if not all the hybrids are seated on the floor, on their knees beside their humans. Plenty of them have collars on. Louis wonders if that’s typical or if it’s a result of tonight’s theme.

Cat’s Cradle is an exclusive hybrid sex club every night, but occasionally they have nights that double as munches for the BDSM crowd, nights like this one.

So the hybrids kneeling on the floor could very well be submissives. Who knows?

There’s suddenly a solitary spotlight on the stage and a woman in a black dress approaches with a mic. “Welcome, everyone,” she says with a smile. “Thank you for coming out, whether you’re here alone or with a partner and whether you’ve been here before or it’s your first time. Tonight we have a very special set of exhibitions that we hope you’ll all enjoy. Feel free to mingle at any time during the showing and give discretion to those who need it. Anything goes at Cat’s Cradle where your inner animal is always welcome.”

Louis snorts and Harry slaps his thigh. “That was cute,” he says.

“Sure,” Louis says, sipping his drink.

The woman on the stage departs and the spotlight shifts a few feet backward. Now, there’s a female cat sitting on the chair that had been empty minutes ago. She’s naked, aside from a thick black collar around her neck and ropes that bind her arms, cross her chest, and encircle her breasts. (Louis recognizes the fancy knots from some of his online research.) The hybrid’s red hair has been fashioned into two ponytails which sit just below her feline ears. She’s also wearing a blindfold.

Another woman enters the stage, wearing a dress that exposes her breasts with a train that drags on the floor behind her bare feet. There’s no telling where this all is headed. Louis has no clue what to expect next, and so the minute the woman reveals a leather flogger and lashes it across the other woman’s chest without warning, Louis’ eyes widen.

The hybrid cries out and her toes curl, but there’s nowhere for her to go. She’s tied  _to_  the chair, Louis realizes. The woman hits her again and her back curves away from the seat but she remains secure. The faint red stripes across her chest darken slowly.

Louis hears a moan but knows it’s not from the stage. He turns and his drink nearly slips from his hand when he sees the folks in the booth beside them fucking it out. A male hybrid is riding a man’s cock right there, out in the open. In his mouth is an actual ball gag, yet another feature from Louis’ online research.

Harry shifts beside him and Louis looks at him, at the flush creeping up his neck. Harry’s gaze is directed at another booth where the hybrid is on their knees, facing away from the stage with their head buried between a woman’s legs. Harry reaches for his drink and has a big sip.

Very interesting.

On stage, the two women eventually leave. In their place is a male hybrid, his hands tied to the stripper pole, his bare bum arched outward. His human is an older, beefy man with a paddle. Harry leans forward a bit when it makes contact with the hybrid’s arse. The hybrid whimpers and clenches his thighs together, hugging the pole with his forearms.

And Harry squeezes his thighs together too. He looks at Louis, startling him with how big his eyes seem. He leans in close, his mouth approaching Louis’ ear. “I’m going to sit on the floor. Is that alright?”

Their eyes meet. Quickly, Louis says, “Yeah.”

Harry moves forward and sinks to his knees and stays there, facing the stage.

Louis stares at the back of his head, and then around at all the people nearby. Everyone is too focused on who they came here with or on the stage. Everyone is too overcome by the heady sense of arousal permeating the air, Harry included.

Yes, it’s bizarre and jarring. Yes, it’s unlike anything Louis’ seen or thought he would see. But he’s here and his hybrid is here having a good time and that’s what matters in the end.

So, he gives himself over to it. He can play along too.

He slides his fingers into Harry’s hair and begins to rub his scalp. Even with all the noise around them, he hears when Harry starts to purr, sees how his spine softens and he leans close. He pushes his cheek against Louis’ knee, always so eager for Louis’ touch. His eyes flicker to Louis’, glowing a bit in some stray light, and there’s apprehensiveness there in his gaze but trust too.

And maybe it’s not the right place or time to have an awareness of this, but Louis is probably in love with him. He thinks he’d have to be to jump so readily into this with him, to be the person Harry needs him to be right now.

When Louis lets himself go and stops watching their surroundings in disbelief, the scenes around them begin to take effect on him too. Harry looks pointedly at Louis’ crotch and meets his gaze with a smirk. And only then does Louis notice how hard he is.

“Shut up,” he says to him before Harry’s had a chance to say a thing.

Harry smiles wider. “You can make me.” He lets that marinate in the air for a moment, lashes moving languidly. Slowly, he reaches for Louis’ free hand, the one not stroking his scalp. Up on stage, there’s a moan, but neither of them look. Harry takes Louis’ hand, brushing his lips over his fingertips. And then he opens his mouth around Louis’ pointer and middle finger and slides his tongue between them.

Louis parts his legs a bit, trying to create some room and relief for his cock. It doesn’t really work. His eyelids flutter as he watches Harry and Harry watches him.

He sucks on each digit without purpose, like he just wants to keep his mouth occupied, and Louis lets him. He pets his curls and pushes his fingers into his mouth, and that’s how they stay for some time. Without question because it feels right.

>> 

Two months ago, they converted Harry’s “bedroom” into a den. Louis had the bed removed because Harry complained it was in the way. Now there are blankets and cushions and pillows thrown on the floor. The sheer yellow curtains allow so much light into the room. Harry spends most of his free time in that patch of golden sunbeams, napping, or singing, or reading.

When Louis comes home that day, the door to the den is shut and he assumes Harry is asleep. He’s tired himself, yawning as he removes a beer from the fridge and slips into their bedroom. He strips naked and pulls on a pair of joggers before collapsing into bed. Sipping his beer, he surfs channels half-heartedly, his gaze sliding every now and then to the doorway.

He’s missed him all day.

In a little while, he might just climb up there and curl up with him.

In spite of how needy Louis has been lately, not much has changed since Cat’s Cradle. They didn’t come home and bust out the whips and chains. They had sex, yeah. Harry got in a couple scratches down and across Louis’ back, but that was the extent of it.

Rather, for Louis, the whole thing seems even more daunting now after seeing it up close. He’s not sure he can give Harry the experience they witnessed. Or that he can get him to that place again, where he was sat willingly on the floor, licking Louis’ fingers like they were coated in milk and honey.

Louis pushes his palm against his crotch and then just cups his cock through his sweats. He might have a wank and then go upstairs.

The whole point is that while he’s more interested than ever in BDSM subculture — especially, if not exclusively, as it pertains to hybrids — he’s never been more apprehensive about it either.

He needs the right push. One solid push to get him there.

And it’s just as he has that thought, that Harry appears in the doorway, and they both freeze.

He’s got his earphones in so he must not have heard Louis come home at all. He’s wearing the black lace panties Louis bought months ago, which hug his hips obscenely, and nothing else.

Or, no—

There is the collar around his neck. The black one with the thick silver buckle.

Quickly, Harry plucks one earphone free. “Hi.”

Louis swallows. “Hi.”

Harry steps further into the room with his arms crossing his chest tightly. Even in the scarce fading sunlight, Louis can see he’s blushing furiously. He’s not seen him this blotchy since they went for a jog together, which turned into a race, and they returned home, close to death from exhaustion.

“I thought you were going to a reading tonight,” Harry says quietly.

Louis takes a sip of the beer, if only because his throat is desert dry. “It got cancelled.”

“Oh.” Harry approaches the bed and sits, his head slightly bowed. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that,” Louis says, his eyes on the collar, and his first thought is that it suits Harry. It looks better than he thought it would.

“I should change,” Harry says.

Louis picks at his beer label. “I don’t see why.”

Harry drums his fingers on his kneecap. With a sigh, he reclines on the mattress beside Louis, moving around until he’s comfortable. “Is this weird?” he asks the ceiling.

“It’s different,” Louis decides. “Is this what you do when I’m not here?”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe.” He pauses. “I might’ve worn all of them.”

“I should’ve known,” Louis says. He sets the bottle down on the bedside table and turns to face him. He props his head up in his palm, elbow pressed into a pillow. Like this, he’s looking down at him. He can read all the apprehensiveness and anxiety in Harry’s expression more clearly. Carefully, Louis lifts a hand to Harry’s neck and brushes his thumb over the collar. “You look beautiful.”

A purr starts immediately, quiet at first but it grows louder. Louis smiles and leans in for a chaste kiss.

"How was your day?" Harry asks, his cheeks a soft lovely pink.

"It was good. Much better right now,” Louis says. He thumbs the collar again, thinking how stunning it is against Harry's milky skin. “Approved the schedule for the book tour. We might be headed to LA this summer, you and me. If you want to go."

“I definitely want to go,” Harry says, running his fingertips over Louis’ hand and forearm.

Louis has to kiss him again, this time not chaste at all. His hand is still on the collar. He can’t stop touching it and doesn’t know why.

“I think you like it,” Harry murmurs, as if he’s heard him. “Maybe you should wear one too.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Getting a little cocky, are you?”

Harry grins. He looks down at Louis’ crotch. “Not without reason.”

Louis obviously doesn’t have to look. He was needing Harry before he saw him and felt the blood and heat rushing dizzyingly to his groin the moment he did. Now his erection is bordering on painful. “Shut up,” he grumbles.

“Make me,” Harry says, bucking his hips against Louis’.

Louis smirks. “Last warning.”

Harry sets his hand over his heart and makes a show of shivering. “I’m terrified.”

Louis wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrist and presses his hand down into the mattress. He’s on top of him before he knows it with both of Harry’s wrists pinned and Harry’s hips held to the mattress by Louis’ own. And it’s amazing how quickly Harry reacts to that slight exercise of dominance. His body goes pliant beneath Louis’, his lips part, his legs spread just a bit more.

“I think you planned this all out,” Louis says. “Wanted me to come home and find you like this. Such a minx…”

Harry visibly stumbles for a response. He starts to shake his head.

“And of course you’d lie about,” Louis says. “‘Cause you’re actually a very bad kitten, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes widen, and Louis waits. It’s not too late for them to stop. He could pull out the condoms and lube now and have a good bout of vanilla sex. He doesn’t believe Harry planned this out at all. He doesn’t think Harry has a clue what to do next, which makes two of them. But he thinks he knows where Harry  _wants_  this to go.

And to confirm, Harry releases his bottom lip from his teeth and says, “Yes.”

Louis wants to smile, but doesn’t. “You’re shameless,” he says disapprovingly. He leans in, pressing a teasing kiss to Harry’s mouth, followed by another deeper kiss. He works his hips against Harry’s, grinding their barely clothed cocks together. He licks at Harry’s tongue before drawing back, leaving Harry to chase him, his head craning off the pillow. “Such a bad kitten. What are we going to do with you?”

“Louis—” Harry begins to whine.

Louis tightens his grip on his wrists. “Stay,” he says, and climbs off of him. He feels Harry’s eyes on him as he disappears into the walk-in cupboard, and when he returns, the hallway light spilling into the room is reflecting on Harry’s pupils causing them to glow. Louis pushes the bedroom door closed and returns to bed.

“I’m going to tie you up,” he says. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Harry answers with such alacrity Louis has to smile.

He straddles Harry’s chest, which leaves his erection in his face but just out of reach, and Harry stares, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. Absolutely shameless. Louis’ smile grows, taking Harry’s right wrist and wrapping the silk around the bone slowly. He does the same with his left wrist, securing both hands together. He threads the extra fabric through the wrought iron bars of the headboard, ties it tight, and tugs.

“Good?”

Harry nods.

“I think you might need some training, baby.” Louis descends down his body. “I think that’s the problem.” He licks Harry's nipple before trapping it between his teeth and tugs slightly. Harry’s back arches off the bed as Louis sucks and teeths and alternates between both nipples. He's always found them so lovely, rosebuds that they are.

“Louis…” Harry breathes.

Louis smiles. "With any luck, that’ll be the only thing you remember how to say when I’m finished," he says. He leaves Harry’s nipples damp and red, his whole chest flushed crimson.

Louis ventures further down his body and licks over Harry's cock beneath the silk panties. He sucks on his cockhead, where precum has already darkened the material. The headboard creaks as Harry tugs on his restraint, twisting his body slightly.

"Taste so good, baby," Louis says. He mouths at his cock until the fabric is soaked with precum and saliva and Harry is a trembling, incoherent mess. And then Harry thrusts his hips upward, pushing his cock forcefully against Louis’ mouth.

Louis pulls back and looks at him, lips pressed into a firm line. He clucks his tongue, grabbing Harry’s hip, turning him over and onto his stomach. The black sash twists but keeps Harry’s wrists secure.

“I thought I told you to stay still.” And on the last word, he lifts his hands, draws a breath, and lays his palm out on Harry’s right arse cheek.

Harry presses his face into his pillow and moans until he can’t breathe, until the sound has faded out. He moans for so long, Louis takes him by the hair and pulls his face from the pillow. Harry sucks in a big gasp of air and releases a breath. “Fuck.”

Louis smiles this time because Harry can’t see. “Who’s in charge here, Harry? Me or you?”

God, he loves this.

Harry answers by pushing his bum against Louis’ crotch, and Louis likes that so he lets him.

“Answer the question,” he says.

“You,” Harry says.

Louis pushes him back down and releases his hair. “Me what?”

"You’re in charge,” Harry says, his voice slightly muffled with his face now smushed against the pillow.

Louis pulls the panties down to Harry’s thighs, exposing his lovely bum. The right cheek is just slightly pink. Louis licks his lips. "Good kitty,” he says, and spanks him again for good measure. “Think I’ll leave you like this.”

Harry’s hands are squeezed into fists. His fingers flex open like points on a star, before curling into fists again. Louis reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out the lube and drops it on the mattress. “You’re lucky I can’t wait right now, or I’d teach you how to be more patient," Louis says, running his hand up the back of Harry's thigh, spreading both palms on his bum and kneading his fingers into his skin. He brushes his thumb over Harry’s hole while uncapping the lube and pours it directly down his crease.

Harry shivers and beneath Louis’ thumb, his hole flutters. Louis rubs him and pushes just the tip of his thumb inside, pulls out and pushes in again. Harry is weak when teased. He can only stand it for so long. And as Louis expects, Harry pushes his bum backward greedily. And Louis gives him another spank, a bit harder where he got the first.

Harry’s body tenses. “Oh my God,” he mutters.

“Good?” Louis asks him.

Harry doesn't answer for one second too long.

“Baby,” Louis says, running a hand up Harry’s back. “I need you to answer me.”

Harry nods. “Really good.”

Louis smiles, massaging Harry's arse where the skin is blotchy and baby pink. “Be still,” Louis tells him. “You move and you get another.”

Louis pulls his thumb free and pushes his middle and forefinger in with more lube. He opens him up slowly and he knows how much effort it takes for Harry not to move. All he can do is moan and whine, and Louis wonders how he'd feel about gags. They'll have to discuss that later.

For now he fucks him with two and then three fingers and when he's had enough and Harry is more than ready, he lathers his cock with lube and drags Harry's hips into place.

Harry gasps when Louis breaches him and his toes curl when Louis’ hips are flush to his.

“Always so tight,” Louis says. “So perfect.”

Harry starts purring again, the only clear sign that he's loving every second of this. Otherwise he's still and silent, his cheek against the pillow, hair spilled all around his head, mouth open so he can gasp and mewl.

Louis leans over his body, wrapping his hands around his wrists and the silk binding them. He thrusts quickly, listening to Harry's rhythmic hurried pants in tandem with his own. He presses his mouth to Harry’s neck and sucks harshly. He leaves a fuchsia blossom on the spot like a brand and presses his thumb into it, just as he buries himself inside at just the right angle and Harry cries out.

“Louis,” he says, mindlessly, and then again and again.

“That’s it, pet,” Louis says. His name on Harry’s lips is poetry and the only line he seems to remember.

“'M coming.”

Or not.

Louis pulls out, although it comes as a personal loss to him. “Didn't say you could,” he says, running his cock between Harry’s crease, letting the tip catch on his rim.

Harry buries his face in his pillow again. “Please,” he mumbles.

Louis pushes into him again. “No. I think I'm gonna come inside you first, sweetheart,” he says. “And then maybe I’ll let you come. I haven't decided yet.”

He shortens each thrust because he's close himself, unsure of how long he'll last. “Not sure you've earned it yet,” Louis says. “But you make me feel so good, baby. You feel so good.”

And then he tightens his grip on Harry’s hips and hides himself inside and comes. He presses his forehead to Harry's shoulder blade as he shoots into him. So many times they've done this, and it's never felt this good. His limbs have never felt this heavy, his head this airy.

“Please, Louis,” Harry says. He's moving his hips now, grinding against Louis. His tails wraps around Louis’ ankle. “Please.”

Louis pulls out and turns him over. Seeing his pink cheeks, his bottom lip bitten red, the hair at his temples dark with sweat, his glistening chest and abs, his cock shining with precum— it's all more than Louis can stand.

“God. You're so beautiful,” Louis says. “I love you so much.”

He kisses him, feeling the soft vibrations from Harry's chest against his own. He pulls away, sinking down Harry's body. “In my mouth,” he says, before wrapping his lips around Harry's cock, sucking just for seconds until Harry comes.

When he's finished, Harry goes still except for his chest rising and falling rapidly. Louis unties his hands, lies down beside him and pulls him against his body. He runs his thumb over Harry's wrists where the skin is slightly pink.

“Good?” Louis asks for the last time, his voice soft and tentative.

Harry nods and turns to face him. And he's smiling, with his eyes and his dimple. It radiates all over his face.

“I love you too.”

Louis lifts his brows. “Yeah?”

“Very much,” Harry says, leaning in to kiss him. “That was fun.”

Louis smiles. He cups the back of Harry’s neck, a gesture that is unintentionally possessive. “I thought so too.”

He ushers Harry off to the bath before he can fall asleep and fills the tub. They wash each other down. Louis fixes Harry's hair into a bun and they towel each other off.

They climb naked into bed and within minutes, they're both asleep.

In the morning, he finds his side of the bed empty, and wanders into the kitchen. Harry is at the stove, shimmying to Super Bass by Nicki Minaj, wearing a pair of tiny red cotton briefs that Louis wants to peel off of him with his teeth.

Harry turns with a striped pink straw tucked between his pinker lips and a cup of milk in hand. When he sees Louis, he smiles, lifting a cup of tea from the counter and holding it out for him to take.

"Good morning," he says, his cheeks flushed.

"Good morning," Louis replies, taking a sip of his tea.

Harry does the whole intense, feline stare thing, which makes Louis’ skin feel warm. “I’m making pancakes and bacon for breakfast,” he says.

“Of course you are,” Louis says. He presses a kiss on Harry’s cheek. Hesitates. “Such a good kitten.”

Harry turns away to finish cooking, but not before Louis catches that crater of a dimple in his cheek. When Harry is finished they eat on the couch, sharing a big plate of pancakes with chocolate and strawberries and bacon on the side.

It’s raining in London, and no doubt, terribly cold. They watch the rain beating angrily against the windows when they aren’t looking at each other.

In spite of the weather, with Harry beside him, Louis feels undeniably warm.

>> 

Slipping into the role comes easy. He always did like acting and when the end result is explosive sex, it’s all the more incentive to perform well.

And of course, there’s Harry, who makes it all very simple.

The following day Louis comes home and finds him on his knees in front of the door, wearing a black lace collar and nothing more. His hair is pulled up into a bun. His hands are laying over his knees.

Earlier they’d been texting while Louis was in a staff meeting and Harry was on his lunch break. Harmless messages at first, but Harry couldn’t control himself. The conversation digressed until Louis was shifting around in his seat and shooting nervous glances around the room and finally ending things off with a bang.

Or a challenge really.

‘Why don’t you show me what a good kitten you can be?’

‘I will xx’, Harry had responded.

Which brings them here.

“Is this good enough?” Harry asks him, posed on the floor.

Louis smiles once he’s caught his breath. Slowly, he closes the front door and drops his keys on the table by the coat rack. He pushes off his shoes, taking his time with it all, rolling his shoulders out. Then he steps forward.

He reaches for the hair tie keeping Harry’s bun secure and pulls it free. The curls tumble down over his shoulders.

“Better,” Louis says.

Harry smiles and leans close to rub his face against Louis’ thigh. When Louis doesn’t stop him, he must assume he can do whatever he wants. He mouths at Louis’ crotch, trying to suck him through the course material of his jeans. Louis pulls him away by the hair, bearing Harry’s pale throat, his skin contrasted beautifully by the dark collar.

“That’s enough,” Louis says. “I brought you something.”

Harry doesn’t reply. His eyes are glassy and doe-like, his lips parted around quick, even breaths.

“I should make you crawl to bed. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Harry says.

“Maybe next time,” Louis says. “Stand up, baby.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet. Louis dangles a paper shopping bag on his forefinger. “Open it,” he says.

Harry takes the bag from him. He reaches inside and withdraws a pair of black leather handcuffs. Slowly he lifts his gaze to Louis’.

“You like them?” Louis asks, trying not to sound nervous. He’s a little nervous. He’d been excited to get home after work, but not without a gift. There’s no task more effortless that he enjoys more than getting gifts for Harry.

“I love them. Thank you,” Harry says. “Could I wear them now?”

“That’s the idea,” Louis says, taking them from him. “I think you’ve earned whatever you want.” Carefully, he buckles the cuffs on, not without some prior research. Harry would forgive him if he fumbled but he wouldn’t forgive himself. Finesse and celerity are paramount to any Dom’s performance.

“How’s that?” Louis asks him when he’s finished, tugging on the chain between Harry’s hands.

Harry nods. “Good.”

“I want you on the bed now. Go,” Louis says and Harry leaves with another docile nod. Louis adores him. In a moment, he’ll show him how much. “I’ll be there when I’m ready.”

<< 

>>  **harry**

He knows he's being irrational, for the same reasons that Louis also probably knows. But that's the whole point.

It’s about nine in the morning when they get back from Louis’ book conference, which was great up until the end. Paris was a new experience for Harry and being there with Louis made it a million times better. He met and made friends with plenty of people. More importantly, he felt proud when he was at Louis' side. And Louis was always just as proud to introduce Harry to his colleagues.

They went out for dinner, drinks and dancing afterwards and there was a female cat who got a bit too close and comfortable. She’d moseyed up to Louis, whispered in his ear even. Louis turned her down gently, wrapped his arm more tightly around Harry's waist. 'I'm with him,' Harry heard him say.

Harry had been annoyed, of course. Not with Louis. Definitely not enough to warrant a tantrum. And yet, that's exactly what he goes for the minute they're back home.

It’s so early, or late, considering they’ve only had an hour of sleep. Harry is silent on the lift ride up, leaning against one mirrored wall with his arms crossed. Leaning as far away from Louis as possible. He feels Louis' gaze on him but he stares adamantly at the shifting numbers ahead as they climb flight after flight.

The lift chimes, the doors slide open and Harry marches into the hall. He doesn't even have his keys on him. Earlier, before he left, he figured he wouldn’t need them if Louis had his. He stands at the door now, feeling a bit silly but determined. Louis strolls up to the door, slides his key into the lock, and pushes the door open. Harry steps inside, making sure their bodies don't touch as he moves past him.

The flat really is too big, there’s more than enough room for Harry to throw a proper fit.

"I can smell that other cat on you, you know?" Harry begins, plopping down on the couch to push off his shoes. "The blonde. She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Louis pauses there at the doorway, his lips parted. “Wait a minute. I thought you were moody because you’re _tired_.”

"If you think I didn't see the way you looked at her, you're wrong."

"Harry, what are you  _talking_  about?" Louis asks, still just frozen there by the door. So confused. Harry thought he'd have caught on by now. “You’re not actually upset about this. Not _hours_ later. And there’s no way you can smell her on me. We didn’t even touch.”

Harry stands. "I get it, Louis. And I think if you can flirt with other people, I can too. Might just go out and find some nice man to take me to bed."

Louis' eyes narrow, and there-- Harry sees the first glimmer of understanding.

As it turns out, Louis is a natural at all this. He hasn’t said explicitly how much he loves their new sex life but the last few months have said enough. Sometimes it takes a little pushing but Louis always gets there eventually.

"There were plenty of them looking at me," Harry goes on. "Bet it’d be easy to find just one."

"Oh, I'm sure." Louis sets his keys down and lifts his chin. "Bet you've just been waiting for the chance. Not even about the blonde, is it? Just about you not knowing how to control yourself. Looking for every excuse to misbehave."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Guess we'll find out," he says. “I’m going to sleep—“

"Sit"—Louis' voice is so sharp, Harry's spine straightens instinctively—"Down."

Harry doesn't move right away, still fighting the urge to submit, trying to hold out a bit longer.

Louis exhales, the sound short and impatient. "Should I repeat myself?"

Harry would love to make Louis repeat himself. That'd get him especially riled up. But then they'd get to the spanking too quickly and Harry, being as needy as he's been the last twenty-four hours, would come before things really began. So he sinks back down to the couch, his arms still crossed.

Louis tsks. "Change my mind. You can kneel."

Harry glances at him, making a show of frowning. He slides off the couch and onto his knees.

Louis approaches him, shaking his head. "We were going to have a nice, calm night tonight. But you ruined it." He takes Harry's chin between his fingers and lifts his head. "You're always so needy. So out-of-control. You haven't learned a thing."

"But the cat—"

"That's enough talking," Louis says and Harry presses his lips together. "I can do whatever I want, kitten. That's how this works. But you’re mine. All those men looking at you know it too. I'm just not sure you get it yet. But we can fix that."

Harry's heart starts to thrum faster. His cock twitches but he keeps his body rigid.

"Don't move," Louis says and leaves him there. The hiss of the shower moments later makes Harry's ears twitch.

Louis returns, wearing just his jeans and his loose gray jumper as far as Harry can tell, his bare feet padding on the polished hardwood floors. He’s holding something in his hands that Harry can just barely see from the corner of his eye. He knows what it is immediately and lifts his head, exposing his neck. He feels the touch of cool leather and metal on his throat. It’s the black leather collar, the one they started with. Louis has learned to choose each collar based on Harry’s moods. When he wants it particularly rough, it’s the black with the big buckle, the patent leather red, or even the one with the rhinestone “BABY” because he likes to feel claimed. When he’s feeling playful or he wants it soft and tender, it’s the lace and the bells. Louis always picks the right one.

He secures the collar and slides a finger between the leather and Harry’s skin. “Good?”

“Good,” Harry says.

“Up,” Louis says. “Come with me.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet and follows Louis up the spiral staircase to the bathroom attached to his den. The mirror inside and most of the space is cloudy with steam. It condenses on Harry’s skin, beneath the jumper he’s still wearing.

Louis hops up beside the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. “Strip.”

Harry reaches for the hem of his jumper immediately and tugs it over his head. He goes to drop it on the floor and Louis shakes his head. “Don’t be a slob, Harry.”

That’s Louis’ job but Harry doesn’t say so. He folds the jumper neatly and places it on the toilet lid. He removes his jeans and pants next, his cock popping free. The head glistens a bit with precome already. He feels Louis' eyes on him and feels shameful, which only makes him harder. He folds the jeans and bends over unnecessarily to set them down, giving Louis a nice view of his bare bum.

“I haven’t got all night,” Louis complains.

Quickly, Harry pushes off his socks and then he stands there, waiting for his next instruction. Louis doesn’t say anything for a few seconds too long. He just looks at Harry, taking him all in. Harry keeps his gaze lowered, his ears perked. “Go on and get cleaned up for me,” Louis finally says. “Five minutes. I’m timing.”

Harry steps inside the shower and lathers himself quickly. He’s aware of Louis watching him, feels his gaze through the steam on the glass shower walls. He scrubs himself as best as he can, everywhere he can, everywhere that matters. He tries to wash his hair even but he’s barely gotten much of a lather going before Louis says, “Thirty seconds.”

Harry lets the water run down his scalp. He swears thirty seconds don’t pass before Louis is pulling the shower door open. “That’s good enough.” He reaches in and turns off the pipe.

Harry steps out, shaking the water off his ears, trying to avoid wetting Louis as he does.

“Get a towel,” Louis says. “Dry your hair.”

Harry reaches for one of the towels hung on a rack beside him. He goes to wipe the water off his chest first.

“Just your hair,” Louis says.

Harry pauses. With a small breath, he begins running the towel over his hair. Not for long before Louis takes it from him and drops it on the floor. He directs Harry forward and out of the loo with a hand on his lowerback and then brings him to a halt in the center of the room. And that's when Harry sees everything laid out on the windowsill -- the handcuffs, the black sash, the riding crop, and nipple clamps. 

Louis lifts the handcuffs first. "Don't know what we're gonna do with you." He shakes his head, latching the first of the cuffs on Harry's outstretched wrist. "Think you need more than the usual this time. What do you think?" 

The process of watching Louis bind him always does something funny to Harry. This is how it all begins, not just the physical manipulation but the mental too. Harry looks at Louis dazedly. "Yes, please."

Louis' lip curves just slightly at the corner. He finishes with the second cuff and lifts the nipple clamps off the bed, swinging them. Harry bites his bottom lip hard.

"Ready?” Louis asks.

Harry nods, then winces as Louis applies the first clamp to his left nipple, which is hard from the cool air meeting his damp skin. It makes it easy for Louis to secure both clamps. It always hurts at first, Harry's nipples being too sensitive, but eventually the pain is dull and heady and eases him under much quicker.

"Down," Louis says, stepping out of the way, and Harry sinks to his knees. "Close your eyes.” Harry shut them immediately, without question. He feels the silk across his cheeks first and whines. He likes the blindfold, he does. But he always puts up a fuss when he can't see Louis. The darkness makes the spaciness so much harder to come out of.

Louis runs a hand over Harry’s curls, thumb touching his soft ears, and they twitch. “So beautiful.”

The rumbling in his chest starts as Louis strokes his cheek. Harry pushes his cheek against his palm and whines again when Louis pulls away.

“Hands and knees,” Louis says. The chain links of Harry’s cuffs rattle as his hands meet the ground. He positions himself with his knees hip distance apart. He then arches his back, curving his bare bum into the air, wiggling it.

He gets a sudden but mild spank for that and resists smiling. He loves the ones that catch him by surprise. He adjusts himself, straightening out his back and going still. If he listens closely, he can hear Louis moving around him. He imagines him lifting the riding crop from the windowsill. He feels Louis looking at him, probably at his bum, at his hole that’s still pink and a little sore from the previous night.

It’s all a test. Harry knows that. He’s not to move or speak unless spoken to. Louis has been teaching him all about patience. Right now they’re on his time. When Louis wants to play, they’ll play. And when Louis wants to stand there and watch him, that’s what he’ll do.

The anticipation is getting to Harry by the time the leather of the crop touches the centre of his back, and he’s been waiting so long for some kind of touch that he exhales in relief. Louis slides the instrument all the way down Harry’s back and stops at his tailbone.

“You get ten,” he says.

Harry nods. “Yes, please.”

And with that Louis brings the leather down on the curve of Harry’s arse. Harry’s mouth drops open. It stings, much worse than Louis’ hand, and the sound is satisfying, a sharp crack in the air. Harry grips the sheets tight.

“How was that?” Louis asks.

Sucking a breath between his teeth, Harry says, “Again, please.”

Louis spanks him again. This time Harry hisses softly and rocks forward, dark brown hair falling over his blindfold.

“Start counting,” Louis says. “That was one.”

“One,” Harry repeats.

The bite of the crop is magnificent. It starts sharp and harsh, and then ricochets outward, turns into a warm, throbbing sort of ache. Harry licks his lips. “Two.”

Louis drags the crop up between his cheeks, tapping his hole. He’s having fun with this. Harry loves when Louis has fun. He gets another spank. “Feeling sorry yet?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers. “Three.”

“Speak up.”

“Three,” he says again.

“And you’re feeling sorry?”

“Very sorry, Louis. Promise I won’t—“

“I’m not convinced,” Louis says.

Four and five bring tears to the corners of Harry’s eyes. He curls his fingers and toes up in the blanket.

“I don’t hear you, Harry. Do we need to stop?”

Harry drags a quick breath through his teeth. “No. Four, five.” He winces, clenching his hole. “ _Fuck_. Six.”

“What’s your color, baby?”

Harry takes another sharp, shuddering breath. “Green,” he says. And after a pause, “Very green.”

He hears Louis laugh in the same instant that the crop lands on the back of his thigh.

Harry chokes on a surprise sob and he needs a moment to catch his breath. Luckily, Louis gives it to him. “Seven,” he exhales when he’s ready.

“You’re doing so well.” Louis runs his hand over his bum, massaging the stinging skin. “So beautiful. Pretty, pink bum. Have you had enough? Talked really big earlier. I would think you could take it.”

Louis slides the crop up between Harry’s legs and then whacks his inner thigh, making Harry squeeze his thighs together and whimper. He gets another thwack on his bum for breaking his position. And now he’s breathless, his head bowed, his chest ballooning rapidly.

“Eight,” he says quietly. “Nine.”

He feels the weightlessness, the soft pull of darkness and warmth, and gives into it. He feels like he’s taken too many shots. It would be scary except that he’s lost the ability to feel fear and even then, he knows Louis is there. It’s trusting Louis that allows him to slip away.

Number ten is still on hold for him, but he can hear Louis murmuring to him, asking him for his color, asking him if he’s alright.

“Baby,” Louis says, his hand sliding up and down Harry’s spine. “I think you’re done.”

Harry shakes his head. “Ten, please,” he murmurs. He wiggles his bum, although he’s not supposed to. He forces himself to anyhow. Louis needs to see that he’s still here and that he’s still him. He hears his soft laughter.

And then the pain sparks on his right cheek and Harry sinks his head to the blankets. He can’t hold himself up anymore.

“Ten.”

“Had enough?”

“No,” Harry says, his voice breaking. “Please.”

“What’s your color?”

“Green.”

He feels Louis’ hand in his hair, pulling him upright. This pain is good too. He’s on his knees now, just his knees, held up by Louis’ grip on his curls. He sinks onto his haunches and winces when his sore bum meets the back of his legs.

Louis unties the blindfold and it slips to the blanket. Their gazes meet.

“Show me you’re okay,” Louis says. “Can you open my jeans for me?”

Harry nods. He reaches for Louis’ belt first and unfastens it, while Louis pulls his jumper off and tosses it aside. Harry slides the belt from its loops, keeping his eyes on Louis’, and drops it. He pulls the zipper down with his teeth and drops his hands.

“Good kitten,” Louis says, petting him between the ears.

Harry rubs his face against Louis’ hip and his thigh. He wants to stay right there. His eyelids and limbs feel heavy.

Louis tugs on his hair again, pulling him away. “I asked you if you had enough, Harry. Have you?”

Harry shakes his head. “I haven’t.” He feels tears sting the corners of his eyes, because he’s slightly frustrated with himself. “Please—”

“Open up,” Louis tells him.

Harry’s mouth drops open and his tongue stretches over his bottom lip. With his hand in his hair to keep him steady, Louis feeds him his cock. Harry stares up at him, his lashes fluttering dazedly. Louis slides all the way in, as far as he can go, and Harry stretches his mouth to accommodate him. His eyes well up with tears. His brows wrinkle. He holds his breath for as long as he can, squeezing his hands into fists and digging his nails into his palms. When he gags, Louis pulls free and Harry inhales greedily.

“So good,” Louis says. “I’m so proud of you.”

Harry licks his lips and opens them again, moaning when Louis enters his mouth, so heavy and thick and warm on his tongue. He loves the feel of him. He loves the taste. The lack of oxygen is blissful, when all he can breathe is the musk of Louis’ skin. He feels light-headed by the time Louis starts to fuck his throat. He doesn’t try to move on his own. He's not sure he can. He just lets Louis direct his head forward and back, and use him however he pleases.

Louis pulls out again to allow him breath.

“Think I want to come down your throat,” Louis says, running his tip over Harry’s bottom lip, painting it with precum and saliva. “How’s that?”

“Yes, please,” Harry murmurs, and the words turn muffled as Louis shoves in again. The gurgling and gagging sound he makes each time is obscene and loud in the room. Louis fucks his throat until Harry feels drool on the sides of his mouth and snot running from his nose and tears building on his eyelashes and clumping them together. His chest burns from the lack of air. Everything aches, especially his bum pressed against his legs.

And he doesn’t want to stop.

He can hear Louis’ breath shuddering and knows he’s close. He moves his tongue along the underside of Louis’ cock. When Louis pulls out again, Harry sucks his balls into his mouth and nuzzles them. He drags in a deep breath before he slides his mouth down on him again.

“Fucking hell,” Louis breathes. He pulls away. “I change my mind.”

Harry whines. “Louis—”

“Down,” Louis says, releasing his hair.

Harry is too slow to move. Too focused on Louis’ cock as he moves away from him. It’s flushed a deep, deep red at the tip. So close. Harry almost had him. And his brain is fuzzy. He can only focus on so many things at once. Louis’ order falls on deaf ears.

He feels Louis’ hand on his back and then his chest being shoved towards the ground, face pushed into a pillow there. “I said down,” Louis repeats with a slap to his arse that stings the already sore skin there. Harry feels tears prickle his eyes and he squeezes them shut and bites his lip hard but it doesn’t help. He hides his whole face in the pillow.

“Harry,” Louis says. And then again, but softer. He palms his arse. “Color?”

Harry blinks to clear his vision. Louis’ hand moves soothingly over his bum while he takes a moment to catch his breath and dry his eyes and find his voice. “Yellow,” he murmurs and he’s not sure he’s actually spoken it or if he’s just thought it. He doesn’t bother to try again.

Either way, Louis gives him the reprieve he needs. He leans over Harry’s body, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. He spends the next minute or so just touching him, petting him, running his palms over his hips and his bum. “I love you so much,” he says quietly. “So beautiful.”

It’s an odd feeling to be crying and purring at the same time, but Harry has lost all sense of control over his own body. He doesn’t know why he’s crying at all. He couldn’t explain if asked. He just knows he loves Louis too. He knows he wants to make Louis happy. He hates to think he disappointed him. He wants to be good for him. A good kitten. Always.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that but eventually his tears have dried and fresh ones aren’t coming and he releases his bottom lip from his teeth, tasting blood. “Green.”

Louis doesn’t move for a second. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“No,” Harry murmurs. “Please—”

“It’s okay, baby,” Louis tells him, pressing another kiss to the center of his back. “Just want you to feel good now.”

He grinds against him, his cock sliding between Harry’s crease, the tip catching on his rim. Harry groans, pushing his bum backward. “Feels good, yeah?” Louis asks, cupping Harry’s hips. “Should see yourself. Fucking gorgeous, love.”

Harry turns his head until he can see Louis behind him, until they can make eye contact. “Love you.”

“I know,” Louis says, thrusting without ever penetrating him. Louis takes his cock into his hand and begins to stroke himself, his chest rising and falling quickly. He swears under his breath and comes, the warmth striking Harry’s hole, dripping from him. Harry reaches between his own legs. He touches himself, feels the sticky moisture like honey on his fingers and spreads it around, pushes it inside himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis breathes. He grasps Harry’s thighs and leans down. “Need a little taste, baby.” And then he’s licking at him, licking up through the mess he’s left behind.

Harry’s groan is feral, guttural and hoarse. “Oh my God.”

“Keep your finger there,” Louis tells him. “Open yourself up for me.”

Harry pushes his finger in a bit deeper and then pulls it out just enough to allow Louis access.

“Good job, baby,” Louis says, and pushes his tongue past Harry's rim, past Harry’s finger.

Harry whimpers, thighs quivering in Louis' hands. "Lou," he murmurs. Louis obviously doesn't answer him. He can't because he starts to fuck into him with his tongue, thrusting muscle against muscle, pushing as deep as he can. "Louis. Please."

Louis sucks on him loudly and pulls off with a deep breath. “Come whenever you’re ready. Whenever you want.” He licks him again. “Taste so good.” He presses the tip of his finger in beside Harry’s and that’s about all he can take. Harry doesn’t shoot all over the bedding beneath him. His orgasm is pulled from him, milked and harvested like honey. Louis keeps licking at him and Harry’s body trembles with each wave of pleasure. His eyes slip closed.

The next moment of semi-awareness that he has, he finds himself spread out on the blankets, warm sunlight across his forearm and his open palm. He feels Louis’ body against his back and his arm thrown over Harry’s waist, fingers stroking his hip. Harry touches his neck and of course, his collar is gone.

He can’t tell how much time has passed, but he doesn’t care either. He shuts his eyes again.

He is fully aware the next time he wakes. The room is dark, save for moonlight and a candle Louis’ lit on the bookshelf. They’re facing each other, Harry clinging to Louis’ front, Harry’s tail across Louis’ legs.

He watches Louis sleep, his long lashes splayed prettily over his cheekbones, his mouth lax. He smiles, running his fingers up Louis’ spine.

Louis inhales a deep breath. “Harry,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed.

“Hi,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ mouth. “I’m here.”

“Completely?” Louis’ eyes open, the blue so ethereal in moonlight.

“I think so,” Harry says. “Maybe more so after a cup of milk?”

Louis huffs a laugh. “Warm?”

“Please,” Harry says.

Louis runs his fingers over Harry’s ears and then untangles himself from his arms. “Be right back,” he says, and returns moments later with a mug of warm milk with a straw. “Had it ready.”

Harry smiles, accepting the cup. They sit upright, Harry wincing a bit when there’s weight on his bum. He chases the straw with his tongue, and Louis' smile is fond as he watches him.

“So,” he says.

Harry lifts his brows. “So.”

“Did we go too far?”

“No,” Harry says without pause.

“You cried for about five minutes, Harry.”

“Bit of an exaggeration,” Harry says, his cheeks warming.

Louis gives him a look.

Harry drinks his milk too eagerly and burps, pressing a hand to the back of his mouth. "Sorry."

“For the burp?”

“For the sobbing.”

“Don't be," Louis says. "Gave me a scare, but that's obviously not your fault."

With a heavy sigh, Harry sets his mug down and looks at him. “Will it freak you out if I say I liked it?”

“Crying?”

“Getting to the point where I’m crying. Where I can’t help it,” Harry says. “You take good care of me. I’m never worried.”

Louis’ lips twitch. “Just so we’re clear. The blonde?”

Harry snorts. “If I were really bothered, I would have handled her myself.”

“Is that right?” Louis grins. “Such a wild cat.”

“Didn't you know?” Harry asks, crawling forward. He pushes Louis back until he can straddle him. His hands move up Harry’s thighs and hips. “I'm half cheetah. Half lion.”

Louis scoffs. “Nothing so ferocious.”

“I’ll show you ferocious,” Harry says, pressing his palms into the blankets on either side of Louis’ head.

“Sounds promising,” Louis says, brows wiggling.

“You’re supposed to be terrified,” Harry says. He leans down, his mouth hovering over Louis’. “But I’ll take it.”

>> 

He wakes one morning in autumn to find the room covered in vases of bright yellow poppies. His limbs are still heavy from the night before. Louis had been ruthless and then soft. He'd left Harry's bum and thighs stinging and hot, and then cuddled him afterwards until he was sated and warm. He'd fallen asleep with Louis whispering about love and forever, and now while he feels perfectly content, he's also incredibly sore. He pushes himself up with difficulty, the bell on his blue collar ringing softly. A sleepy smile spans his face from ear to ear as he gazes around the room.

Poppies won’t bloom again until late spring. Harry knows because they’re his favourite, because he’s planted a few in the balcony garden and watched them die off only weeks ago. And yet, the room is glowing with them.

"Oh, good. You're up," Louis says appearing at the door way. "Just in time."

Harry watches him approach. "For what?" he asks, his heart thudding.

"Made you breakfast," Louis says, climbing onto the bed, leaning in immediately for a quick kiss.

"What are you up to?" Harry asks.

Louis shrugs. "Are you liking it?"

"Loving it, I think," Harry says, lying backward so Louis can hover over him. "But why?"

"You absolutely forgot,” Louis says. “Must be the mind-numbing sex.”

“Forgot _what_?” Harry asks, in the same instant that the answer dawns on him.

“Happy Anniversary,” Louis says, their mouths brushing. He twines their fingers together and presses Harry's hands down into the mattress.

Harry’s eyes widen. “No, wait. I got you a gift! And made dinner plans too.”

“Sure, sure,” Louis says. “Well, here’s mine. Half of it, anyway. You said the poppy meant peace, yeah?" He smiles. "That's what I've felt since you came here. All the time. When we're just watching a film or cooking. Or last night,  _afterwards--_  I felt it then.” He kisses him again. "I love you."

"I love you too," Harry says, his smile big, so big his cheeks hurt a bit. Hovering above him, Louis is golden, touched by sun, and smiling. The poppies, as pretty as they are, could never compare. "Happy Anniversary."

Louis flicks the bell on Harry's collar and smiles. "One year down. Forever to go.”


End file.
